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Encyclopaedia 



of 



Religion and Ethics 



TkL 



Encyclopaedia 

^' of 

Religion and Ethics 



EDITED BY 

JAMES HASTINGS 

WITH THE ASSISTAUCK OF 

JOHN A. SELBIE, M.A., D.D. 

PBOPBSSOB OF OLD TESTAMENT LANGUAGE AND LTTERATORE IN THE 
UNITED FREE CHURCH COLLEGE, ABERDEEN 

AND 

1 LOUIS H. GRAY, M.A., Ph.D. 

SOMETIME FELLOW IN INDO-IBANIAN LANGUAGES IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, NEW YORK 



/y 






VOLUME VIII 3 I 

LIFE AND DEATH-MULLA 



Edinburgh: T. & T. CLARK, 38 George Street 

New York: CHARLES SGRIBNER'S SONS, 153-157 Fifth Avenue 

1915 



31 
V.8 



PriiUed by Morrison & Gibb Limited 

FOR 

T. & T. CLARK, EDINBURGH 

I.0NT10N : SIlirKIN, MAr.SHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, AND CO. LIMITKD 
NEW YORK : CHARLES SCUIBNER's SONS 



[The Eights of Translation ami nf Erprodvction are Eeierved.'] 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN" THIS VOLUME 



Abelson (Joshua), M.A., D.Lit. (London). 

Principal of Aria College, Portsmouth ; author 
of Immanence of God in Rabbinical Litera- 
ture, Jewish Mysticism, Maimonides on the 
Jeiviih Creed. 
Maimonides, 

Abrahams (Israel), M.A. (Lond. and Camb.), 
D.D. (Heb. Union Coll., Ciiioin.). 
Reader in Talmudic and Kabbinic Literature 
in the University of Cambridy;e ; formerly 
Senior Tutor in the Jews' College, London'; 
editor of the Jewish Quarterly Review, 1888- 
1908. 
Marriage (Jewish). 
Adler(E. N.), M.A. 

Member of the Council of the Jewish Historical 
Society ; Corresponding Member of tlie 
Royal Academy of History of Spain and of 
the Jewish Historical Society of America ; 
author of Jtws in Many Lands, Atito-de-ft 
and Jew. 

Mendelssohn. 

Alexander (Hartley Burr), Ph.D. 

Professor of Philosophy in the University of 
Nebraska. 
Literature (American). 

Allan (John), M.A., M.K.A.S. 

Assistant in the Department of Coins and 
Medals in the British Museum ; Assistant 
to the Professor of Sanskrit at University 
College, Loudon. 
Magadha, Maya. 

Anesaki (Masaharu), M.A., D.Litt. 

Professor of the Science of Religion in the 
Imperial University of Tokyo ; I'rofessor of 
Japanese Literature and Life in the Univer- 
sity of Harvard, 191.S-15. 
Life and Death (Japanese), Missions 
(Buddhist). 

Anwyl (Sir Edward), M.A. (Oxon.). 

Late Professor of Welsh and Comparative 
Philology, and Dean of the Faculty of Arts, 
in the University College of Wales, Aberyst- 
wyth ; author of Celtic Religion. 
Merlin. 

Armitage-Smith (George), M.A., D.Lit. 

Principal of Birkbeck College, London ; for- 
merly Dean of the Faculty of Economics in 
the University of London ; Fellow of Statist- 
ical Society; Si ember of Council of the Royal 
Economics Society ; Lecturer on Economics 
and Mental Science at Birkbeck College. 
Money. 



Arnold (Thomas Walker), CLE., Litt.D., 
M.A. 

Professor of Arabic, LTniversitj- of London, 

University College ; author of T/te Preaching 

of Islam ; editor of The Encyctopcedia of 

Islam. 

Missions (Muhammadan), Muhammadan- 

ism (in India). 

Baikie (James). 

Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society ; 
Minister of the United Free Church at Edin- 
burgh : author of Lands and Peoples of the 
Bible {I9li}. 
Literature (Egyptian), Manetho. 

Ball (James Dyer), LS.O., M.R.A.S., M. Ch. 
Br. R.A.S. 
Of the Hongkong Civil Service (retired) ; 
author of Things Chinese, The Chinese at 
Home, and other works ; editor of Friend of 
China. 
Life and Death (Chinese), Light and Dark- 
ness (Chinese). 

Barber (William Theodore Aquila), B.A. 
(Lond.), M.A. (Camb.), D.D. (Dublin). 
Headmaster of the Leys School, Cambridge. 
LuUists. 

Barker (Henry), M.A. 

Lecturer in Moral Philosophy in the University 
of Edinburgh. 
Locke. 
Barns (Thomas), M.A. (Oxon.). 

Vicar of Hilderstone, Staflbrdshire. 
Michaelmas. 

Barton (George Aaron), A.M., Ph.D., LL.D. 
Professor of Biblical Literature and Semitic 
Languages in Bryn Mawr College, Pennsyl- 
vania ; author of A Sketch of Semitic Origins, 
' Ecclesiastes ' in the International Critical 
Commentary, Commentary on Job, The 
Origin ana Development of Babylonian 
Writing. 
Marriage (Semitic), Milk (Civilized Re- 
ligions). 

Beazley (Charles Raymond), D.Litt. (Oxford), 
F.R.G.S. 
Professor of Modern History in the Universitj' 
of Birmingham ; formerly Fellow of Merton 
College, Oxford ; Member of Council of the 
Royal Historical Society ; Member of the 
Royal Asiatic Society ; author of Dawn of 
Modern Geography, and other works. 

Missions (Christian, Early and Mediaeval). 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



Bevan (Anthonv Ashlky), M.A. 

Fellow of Trinity CoUese, Cambridge ; Lord 
Almoner's licader in Arabic in the Univer- 
8ity of Cambridge ; nnthor of A Short Com- 
mciifnn/ on the Book of DnnkI (189>2) : cilitor 
of 'J'he Jfi/iitn of the Soul in the ' Cambriiljie 
Texts and Studies' (1897), and of IheNa^aid 
of Jarir and alKarazdaV (1905-12). 
Manichxism. 

Bezold (Carl), Ph.D., LL.D. 

Geheimer Hofrat ; Ordinary Professor of Ori- 
ental Philolojjy and Director of the Oriental 
Seminary in the University of Heidelberg ; 
Ordinary Member of the HeiJellierg Aka- 
deniie der Wissenschaften ; editor of Zeit- 
sehriftfur Assyriologic. 
Literature (Babylonian). 

Bbzzenberger (Dr. Adalbert). 

Profe.ssor der Sanskrit und vergl. Spraeh- 
wissenschaften an der UniversitSt Kiinigs- 
berg. 
Lithuanians and Letts. 

Bloomfield (Maurr-r), Ph.D., LL.D. 

Professor of Sanskrit and Comparative Phil- 
ology in Jolins Hopkins University, Balti- 
more ; President of the American Oriental 
Society. 
Literature (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit). 

BOSANQUET (Roberto, M.A., F.S.A. 

Professor of Classical Archaeology in the Uni- 
versity of Liverpool ; formerly Director of 
the British School of Archaeology at Athens. 
Minotaur. 

Brandt (Dr. Wilhelm). 

Late Professor of Old and New Testament 
and the History of Religion in the Univer- 
sity of Aiiisteraam. 
Mandseans, Masbothsans. 

Brough (Jo-SEPH), B.A., LL.D. (Cantab.), M.Sc. 
(Wales). 
Lecturer on Logic at Bedford College, London ; 
formerly Professor of Logic and Philosophy 
in the University College of Wales, Aberyst- 
wyth ; author of The Study of Mental Science. 
Logic, Method (Logical). 

Bryant (Mrs. Sophie), D.Sc. (London), Litt.D. 
(Dublin). 
Headmistress of the North London Collegiate 
School ; author of St ndies in Character, and 
other works. 
Loyalty. 

Burnet (John), M.A. (Oxon.), LL.D. (Edin.), 
Ph.D. (Prag). 
Professor of Greek in the United College of 
St. Salvator and St. Leonard, St. Andrews ; 
Hon. Fellow of Mcrton (College, Oxford ; 
author of Early Greek Philo.iopky (1892); 
editor of Platonls Opera (1899-1907), and 
other works. 
Megarics. 

Cabrol (Ferxand). 

Abbot of F'am borough, Hants. 
Monasticism. 

Cahnoy (Albert .Joseph), Docteur en Philosophie 
et Lettres (Louvain). 
Professor of Zend and Pahlavi and Greek 
Pala-ography in the University of Louvain ; 
Research Professor in the LFniversity of 
Pennsylvania (1915-10). 
Magic (Iranian). 



Carpenter (J. Estun), M.A., D.Litt., D.D., 
D.Theol. 
Wilde Lecturer in Natural and Comparative 
Religion in the University of O.xford ; 
formerly Principal of MHnchL-~ter College, 
Oxford ; author of The Bible in the Nine- 
teenth Century, and other works; joint- 
editor of The Hexateuch according to the 
Revised Version. 
Martineau. 

Carter (Jesse Benedict), Ph.D. (Halle). 

Director of the American Academy in Rome. 
Love (Roman). 

Cobb (William Frkdeiuck), D.D. 

Rector of the Church of St. Ethelburga the 
Virgin, London ; anthor of Mysticism and 
the Creed a^U). 

Life =>.nd Death (Christian). 

CODRINGTON (ROBERT HENRY), D.D. (Oxon.). 

Hon. Fellow of Wadliam College, Oxford ; 
Prebendary of Chichester ; formerly Mis- 
sionary in Melanesia ; autlior of The Mela- 
ncsi'tn Lanqwiqc.-i (ISISj), The, Melanesians : 
their Anthropolueiy and Folklore (1891). 
Melanesians. 

CoE (George Albert), Ph.D., LL.D. 

Professor of Religious Education and Psychol- 
ogy in the Union Theological Seminary, 
New York ; author of The Sjjiritual Life, 
The Relifjimi of a Mature Mind, Education 
in Religion and Morals. 
Morbidness. 
Coleman (Ale.xis iRfiNfiE du Pont), M.A. 
(Oxon. ). 
Assistant Professor of English Literature, 
College of the City of New York. 
Miracle-Plays. 
Compton (Alfred Donaldson), B.Sc. 

Assistant Professor of English Literature, 
College of the City of New- York. 
Miracle-Plays. 
Conway (R. Seymour), Litt.D. 

Professor of Latin and Indo-European Philol- 
ogy in the University of Manchester ; some- 
time Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, 
Cambridge ; Corresponding Member of the 
German Imperial Institute of Archaeology ; 
editor of The Italic Dialects. 
Ligurian Religion. 

Cooper (James), D.D. (Aberd.), Hon. D.Litt. 
(Dublin), D.C.L. (Durham). 
Professor of Ecclesiastical History in the 
University of Glasgow. 
Mary. 

Crawley (Alfred Ernest), M.A. (Carab.). 

Fellow of tlie Sociological Societj' ; Examiner 
to tlie University of London ; autlior of 
The Mystic Rose, The Tree of Life, The Idea 
of the Soul, The Book of the Bah. 
Life and Death (Primitive, American), 
Locust, Love (Primitive, American), 
Magical Circle, Mask, May, Metals 
and Minerals, Mirror. 
Crookf. (William), B..\. 

Ex-Scliolar of Trinity College, Dublin ; Fellow 
of the Royal .'\nthropological Institute; 
President of the Anthro|)ologic.al Section of 
the British Association, 1910; President of 
the FolUloie Society, 1911-12; late of the 
Bengal Ci\ il .Service. 
Magh, Mababan, Mahar, Majhwar, 
Mai, Mishmis. 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



Cruickshank (William), JI.A., B.D. 

Minister of tlie riuiicli of Scotland at Kinnelt, 
Bervie ; autlior of The Bible in the Light of 
Antiquity (\^n). 
Light and Darkness (Semitic and 
Egyptian). 

Davids (T. W. Rhys), LL.D., Ph.D., D.Sc, F.B.A. 
Formerly Professor of Comparative Religion, 
Mancliester ; President of the Pali Text 
Society; author of Buddhism (1878), QiKS- 
tions of Kill rj Milinda (1890-94), American 
Lectures on Buddhism, (1896), Buddhist 
India (1902), Early Buddhism (1908). 
Lumbini, Milinda, Moggallana. 

Davids (Mrs. Rhys), M.A. 

Formerly Lecturer on Indian Philosophy in the 
University of Mancliester ; Fellow of Uni- 
versity College, London ; author of Buddhist 
Psirholorjirnl Ethics (1900), Psalms of the 
Earhi Buddhists (1909, 1913), Buddhism 
(1912), Buddhist Psychology {I9li). 
Logic(Buddhist), Love(Buddhist),Moksa. 

Davidson (William Leslie), M.A., LL.D. 

Professor of Logic and Metaphysics in the 
University of Aberdeen ; author of The 
Logic of Definition, Theism as Grounded in 
Human Nature, The Stoic Creed, Political 
Thought in England : the Utilitarians from 
Bentham to J. S. Mill. 
Mill, James and John Stuart. 

Denney (James), D.D. 

Principal, and Professor of New Testament 
Language, Literature, and Theology, United 
Free Chitrch College, Glasgow ; author of 
Studies in Theology, The Death of Christ, 
Jesus and the Gospel. 
Mediation. 

DeUTSCH (Gotthard), Ph.D. (Vienna). 

Professor of History in the Hehrew Union 
College, Cincinnati ; author of Philosophy of 
Jewish History (1897). 
Love (Jewish). 

DoTTiN (Georges), Docteur es-Lettres. 

Professeur de langue et litterature grecques k 
I'Uuiversite de Rennes. 
Marriage (Celtic). 

Duckworth (W. Laurence H.), M.A., M.D., 
Sc.D. 
Fellow of Jesns College, Cambridge ; Univer- 
sity Lecturer in Physical Anthropology ; 
Senior Demonstrator of Anatomy. 
Monsters (Biological). 

Edgell (Beatrice), M.A. (Wales), Ph.D. (Wvirz- 
burg). 
Lecturer in Philosophy in Bedford College, 
and University Reader in Psychology in the 
University of London. 
Memory. 

EUBOGEN (Dr. I.). 

Dozent in der Geschichte und Literatur der 
Juden an der Leliranstalt fUr die Wissen- 
schaft des Judeutuuis, Berlin. 
Literature (Jewish). 

Emmet (Cyril AVilliam), M.A. 

Vicar of West Hendred, Berks ; formerly 
Scholar of Corpus Christi College, O.xford ; 
author of The Eschatological Question in 
the Gospels, Tlie Epistle to the Oalatians 
(Readers' Commentary). 
Messiah. 



Enthoven (Reginald E.), I.C.S. 

Commissioner, 2nd Grade, Bombay Presidency. 

Lingayats. 

Eucken (Rudolf Christoph), Dr. theol. u. philos. 
Geheinier Rat ; ordentlicher Profe."^.sor der 
I'hilosophie an der Univer.sitat zu Jena ; 
author of Hauptprobleme der Religions- 
philosophie der Gegenwart, and other 
works. 
Monism. 

Findlay (George Gillanders), B.A. (Lond.), 
D.D. (St. Andrews). 
Tutor in New Testament Literature and 
Classics in Headingley College, Leeds. 
Methodism (Doctrine). 

Foakes-Jackson (Frederick John), D.D. 

Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge, and Hon. 
Canon of Peterborough Cathedral : author 
of The History of the Christian Chvreh to 
A.D. 461, A Bible History of the Hebrews, 
and other works. 
Meletianism. 

Foley (William Malcolm), B.D. 

Rector of Tralee, Co. Kerry ; Archdeacon of 
ArdJfert; Canon of St. Patrick's Cathedral, 
Dublin ; Canon of St. Mary's Cathedral, 
Limerick ; Examining Chaplain to the 
Bishop of Limerick ; formerly Donnellan 
Lecturer (1892-93) in the University of 
Dublin. 
Marriage (Christian). 

FoRKE (Alfred), LL.D. 

Agassiz Professor of Oriental Languages and 
Literature in the University of California, 
Berkeley ; Hon. Member of the Royal 
Asiatic Society at Shanghai. 
Materialism (Chinese). 

Fowler (William Warde), M.A., Hon. D.Litt. 
(Manchester), Hon. LL.D. (Edin.). 
Fellow and late Subrector of Lincoln College, 
Oxford ; Gifford Lecturer in Edinburgh 
University (1909-10). 
Marriage (Roman). 

Fhakcke (August Hermann), Ph.D. h. c. (Bres- 
lau). 
Hon. Foreign Member of the British and 
Foreign Bible Society ; Moravian Mission- 
ary. 
gLing Chos. 

Franks (Robert Sleightholme), M.A., B.Litt. 
Principal of the Western College, Bristol ; 
author of The New Testament Doctrines of 
Man, Sin, and Salvation (1908). 
Merit (Christian). 

Frazer (Robert Watson), LL.B., C.E., I.C.S. 
(retired). 
Lecturer in Tamil and Telugu, University 
College, London ; formerly Principal Li- 
brarian, London Institution ; author of A 
Literary History of India, Indian Thought 
Past and Present. 

Literature (Dra vidian). 

Garbe (Richard), Ph.D. 

Professor des Sanskrit und der allgemeineii 
Religionsgesohichte an der Universitat z\i 
Tubingen. 

Lokayata, Mimamsa. 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



Gardinki! (Alan Henderson), D.Litt. (Oxon.). 
Formerly Reader in Egyptology at Manchester 
University ; LaycocK Student of Egypt- 
ology at Worcester College, Oxford ; sub- 
editor of the Hieroglyphic llictionary of the 
German Academies at Berlin. 
Life and Death (Egyptian), Magic 
( Egypt iiui). 

Gaster (Moses), Ph.D. 

Chief Rabbi, Spanish and Portuguese Con- 
gregations, London ; formerly President of 
the Folklore Society, and of the Jewish 
Historicil Society ; Vice-President of the 
Royal Asiatic Society. 
Magic (.Jewish). 

Gedkn (Alfred S.), M.A. (Oxon.), D.l). (Aberd.). 
Professor of Old Te.stament Languages and 
Literature and of Comi>arative Religion in 
the Wesleyan College, Richmond, Surrey ; 
author of Studies in the lieligioiis of the 
Eaxt ; translator of Deussen's Philosophy of 
the Upanishails. 

Mercy (Indian), Monasticism (Buddhist, 
Hindu). 

Geffcken (Dr. Johannes). 

Ordentlicher Professor der Klass. Philologie 
an der Universitat Rostock. 
Maenads. 

Gerig (John Lawrence), M.A., Ph.D. 

Associate Professoi' of Romance Languages 
and Celtic in Columbia University, New 
York. ' 

Love (Celtic). 

Gibson (William Ralph Koyce), M.A., D.Sc. 
Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy in 
the University of Melbourne ; author of A 
Philosophii:al Introduction to Ethics (1904), 
and other works. 
Love (Psychological and Ethical). 

GiBSE (Dr. Friedrich). 

Professor fiir Ural-Altaische Sprachen an der 
Universitat Konstantinopel ; ehemals Pro- 
fessor fiir die Tiirkische Sprache an der 
Universitat Uerliii. 

Muhammadanism (in Turkey). 

GoMME (Sir Laurence), F.S.A. 

Fellow of the Anthropological Institute; Vice- 
President of the Folklore Society ; Hon. 
Member of Glasgow Archaeological Society. 
Milk (Primitive Religions). 

Gould (Frederick James). 

Lecturer and Demonstrator for the Moral 
Education League ; author ol Moral Instruc- 
tion : itx Theory and Practice, 
Moral Education Leagfue. 

GRANDIDIER (GUILLAUME CHARLES AUGUSTE), 
Docteur ^s-Sciences. 
Corresjiondant d\i Mu.seum d'Histoire natu- 
relle charge de missions scientiliques par le 
GouvcriieiiKMit franyais h, Madagascar. 
Madagascar. 

GKASfl (Karl Konrad), Dr.Theol. 

Professor of New Testament Exegesis in the 
Imperatorskij Jurjevskij University, Dorpat, 
Russia. 

Men of God. 



Gray (Louis Herbert), Ph.D. (Columbia). 

Sometime Member of the Editorial Stafl' of 
t\iG New International Encyrti>i>a:din ; assist- 
ant editor of the present work ; author of 
Indo-Iranian Phonoloqy (1902) ; translator 
of Vdsavadatta, a Sanskrit Bomancc by 
Subandhu (1913). 

Life and Death (Iranian), Light and 
Darkness( Inuiian), Literature (I'ahlavi), 
Marriage (Iranian), Mazandaran, Mean 
(Cliinese), Merit (Introductory and 
Non-Christian), Missions (Zoroastrian). 

Grierson (Sir George AnuAHAM), K.C.I.E., 
Ph.D., (Halle), D.Litt. (Dublin), I.C.S. 
(retired). 
Honorary Member of the American Oriental 
Society, Honorary Fellow of the Asiatic 
Society of Bengal ; Foreign Associate 
Member of the Soci^ti Asiatique de Paris ; 
Superintendent of the Linguistic Society of 
India. 
Literature (Indian Vernacular), Madhvas, 
Maluk Dasis. 

Grierson (Herbert John Clifford), M.A., 
LL.D. 
Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature 
in the University of Edinburgh ; editor of 
The Poems of John Donne (1912). 
Milton. 

Griffith (Francis Llewellyn), M.A., F.S.A., 
Hon. Ph.D. (Leipzig). 
Reader in Egyptology in the University of 
Oxford ; editor of the Arch.ijological Survey 
of the Egypt Exploration Fund ; Corre- 
sponding Member of the Royal Academy of 
Sciences at Berlin ; Foreign Associate of 
the Soci6t6 Asiatique; Member of the 
Imperial Academy of Sciences of Vienna. 
Marriage (Egyptian). 

Halsig (Dr. F.). 
Leipzig. 

Magic (Teutonic). 

Hall (Thomas Cuming), B.A., D.D. 

Professor of Christian Ethics in Union Theo- 
logical Seminary, New York. 
Moral Obligation. 

Hamilton-Grier-son (Sir Philip James, Kt.), 
B.A. (Oxon.). 
Fellow of the Society of Scottish Antiquaries ; 
Fellow of the Royal Anthropological Insti- 
tute ; Solicitor for Scotland to the Board of 
Inland Revenue. 
Market. 

Harrison (Jane Ellen), LL.D. (Aberd.), D.Litt. 
(Durham). 
Staff Lecturer and sometime Fellow of Newn- 
ham College, Cambridge ; author of The 
Religion of Ancient Greece (1905), Prolego- 
mena to the Study of Greek Religion (1907), 
Themis: a Study of the Social Origins of 
Greek Religion (1912). 
Mountain-Mother. 

Hartland (Edwin Sidney), F.S.A. 

President of the Folklore Society, 1899; 
Presiilent of the Antlinqiological Section of 
the British Association, 1906 ; President of 
Section I (Religions of the Lower Culture) 
at the Oxford International Congress for 
the History of Religions, 1908 ; author of 
The Legend of Perseus, Primitive Paternity, 
Ritual and Belief. 
Life-Token, 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



Hartmann (Dr. Martin). 

Professor der Syrisch-Arab. I.slanikuuile an 
der Uiiiversitiit Berlin. 
Muhammadanism (in China). 

Hasse (Evelyn R.), D.D. 

Bishop of the Moravian Church ; President of 
the Directory Board of the Moravian Church 
in Great Britain and Ireland. 
Moravians. 

Herford (R. Traveks), B.A. 

Librarian of the Dr. Williams Library, 
London ; author of Christianii y in Talmud 
and Midrash, Pharisaism : its Aim and its 
Method. 
Minim. 

Hicks (Robert Drew), M.A. 

Fellow and formerly Classical Lecturer of 
Trinity College, Cambridge. 
Lucretius. 

HlLLEBRANDT (A. F. ALFRED), Ph.D. (Munich), 
LL.D. 
Ord. Professor of Sanskrit and Comparative 
Philology in the University of Breslau ; 
Corresponding Member of the Konigliche 
Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Gottin- 
gen, and of the Royal Bavarian Academy of 
Sciences ; Geheimer Regierungsrat. 
Light and Darkness (Hindu). 

HoDSON (Thomas Callan), I.C.S. (retired). 

Hon. Secretary of the Royal Anthropological 
In!>titute ; author of 2'he Meitheis (1908), 
The XCiga Tribes of itanipur (1911). 
Lushais, Manipuris. 

Hope (John Maurice Vaizey), M.A. (Cantab, et 
Oxon.). 
Clare College ; sometime Scholar of Trinity 
College, Cambridge ; late Fellow of St. 
Augustine's College, Canterbury. 
Lying. 

Hopkins (EDVi^ARD Washburn), Ph.D., LL.D. 
Professor of Sanskrit and Comparative Phil- 
ology in Yale University ; former President 
of the American Oriental Society ; author 
of The Religions of India, The Great Epic of 
India, India Old and New, Epic Mythology. 
Mahabharata, Manitu. 

HoRROCKS (Arthur James), M.A., D.D. 

Minister of the Congregational Church at 
Camden Town. 
Meekness. 

HuRWiTz (Solomon Theodore Hal6vy), M.A., 
Ph.D. (Columbia). 
Gustav Gottheil Lecturer in Semitic Lan- 
guages in Columbia University ; formerly 
Librarian of Jewish Literature in the New 
York Public Library ; author of Root-Deter- 
minaticcs in Semitic Speech. 
Midrash and Midrashic Literature. 

Hyamson (Albert Montefiore), F.R.Hist.S. 
Corresponding Member of the American 
Je\vish Historical Society ; Member of 
Council of the Jewish Historical Society of 
England ; author of A History uf the Jews 
in England. 

Messiahs (Pseudo-). 

Hyslop (James Hervey), Ph.D., LL.D. 

Secretary of the American Society for Psychi- 
cal Research ; formerly Professor of Logic 
and Ethics in Columbia University. 
Moral Argument. 



Inge (William Ralph), D.D. 

Dean of St. Paul's ; author of Christian 
Mysticism (1899), Studies of English Mystics 
(1906), Persotml Idealism and Mysticism 
(1907), Faith and its Psychology (1908). 
Logos. 

Jacobs (Henry Eyster), S.T.D., LL.D. 

Dean and Professor of Systematic Theology 
in the Lutheran Theological Seminary at 
Philadelphia. 
Luther, Lutheranism. 

Johnston (Sir Harry Hamilton), G.C.M.G., 
K.C.B., D.Sc. (Canib.). 
Vice-President of the African Society ; author 
of The Uganda Protectorate (1902), Liberia 
(1906). 
Masai. 

Johnston (Reginald Flejiing), M.A. (Oxon.), 
F.R.G.S. 
District Officer and Magistrate, Weihaiwei ; 
formerly Private Secretary to the Governor 
of Hongkong ; Member of the Royal Asiatic 
Society and of the Folklore Society ; author 
of From Peking to Mandalay (1908), Lion 
and Dragon in Northern China (1910), 
Buddhist China (1913). 
Magic (Chinese). 

Jones (H. Stuart), M.A. 

Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford ; Fellow of 
the British Academy ; formerly Director of 
the British School at Rome. 
Mithraism. 
Jones (J. P.), M.A., D.D. 

Professor of Indian Missions in the Kennedy 
School of Missions, Hartford, Conn. ; editor 
of The Year Book of Missions in India. 
Madura. 
Joseph (Morris). 

Senior Minister of the AVest London Syna- 
gogue ; author of Judaism as Creed and 
Life (1910). 
Life and Death (Jewish), Meir. 

Joyce (George Hayward), S.J., M.A. (Oxon.). 
Professor of Dogmatic Theology at St. Beuno's 
College, St. A.saph, N. Wales. 
Mental Reservation. 
Juynboll (Th. W.), Dr. juris et phil. 

Adjutor interpretis ' Legati Warneriani,' 
Leyden. 
Malik ibn Anas. 

Kay (D. Miller), B.Sc, D.D. 

Regius Professor of Hebrew and Oriental 
Languages in the University of St. Andrews. 
Massebhah. 

Keith (Arthur Berriedale), D.C.L., D.Litt. 
Barrister-at-law ; Regius Professor of Sanskrit 
and Comparative I'hilology in the University 
of Edinburgh. 
Marriage (Hindu). 

Kennett (Robert Hatch), D.D. 

Regius Professor of Hebrew in the University 
of Cambridge ; Canon of Ely ; Fellow of 
Queens' College, Cambridge ; Examining 
Chaplain to the Bishops of Ely and Man- 
chester. 
Moab. 

Kern (Johan Hkndrik Caspar), LL.D. (Leyden), 
Hon. Dr. Phil. (Leipzig, Christiania). 
Formerly Professor of Sanskrit and Compara- 
tive Philology in the University of Leyden. 
Malay Archipelago. 



AUTHORS OP ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



King (Leonard William), M.A., Litt.D., F.S.A. 
Assistant Ivecjier of Efiyptiaii ami Assyrian 
Antiquities, ISiilish Mnsenm ; Professor of 
Assyrian and Ijiibylonian Arc'li;oology in the 
University of London ; antlior of A History 
of Babylonin niir! Asayria. 
Magic (lial>ylonian). 

Kroli. (Wilhelm), Pr.l'hil. 

Professor der Klass. I'liilologie an der Uni- 
versitiit Miinster. 
Momentary Gods. 

KrWger (Dr. GusTAV). 

Professor der Kirchen^'escliichte an der Uni- 
versitiit Giessen. 
Monophysitism, Monotheletism. 

KtTHLER CWlLIIKLMITS JOHANNES). 

Professor of Theology in the LTniversity of 
Amsterdam, and o\ (he Seminary of the 
Mennonites in Amsterdam. 
Mennonites. 

Latte (Kurt). 
Kcinigsberg. 

Love (Greek). 

Lawlor (Hugh Jackson), D.D., Litt.D. 

Beresford Professor of Ecclesiastical History 
in the University of Dublin ; Canon and 
Precentor of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin ; 
Sub-Dean of the Chapel Royal, Dublin. 
Montanism. 

LiLLEY (Alfred Leslie), M.A. 

Canon of Hereford and Archdeacon of Ludlow. 
Modernism. 

LooFS (Kriedrich), Lie. Theol., Dr.Phil. n. Tlieol. 

Ordentlicher Professor der Kirchengeschichte 

an der LTniversitat zu Halle ; Geheimer 

Konsistorialrat ; Mitglied des Konsis- 

toriunis der Provinz Sachsen. 

Macedonianism. 

Lyall (Sir Charles Jame.s), K.C.S.T., CLE., 
Hon. LL.D. (Edin.), Ph.D. (Strassburg), 
D.Litt. (Oxford), F.B.A., LC.S. (retired). 
Hon. Member of the Asiatic Society of Bengal ; 
Hon. Member of the Deutsche Morgen- 
landische Gesellschaft ; Member of Council 
of the Royal Asiatic Society ; Judicial and 
Public Secretary to the India Office (1898- 
1910). 
Mikirs. 

MacCulloch (John Arnott), Hon. D.D. (St. 
Andrews). 
Rector of St. Saviour's, Bridge of Allan ; Hon. 
Canon of the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit, 
Cumbrae ; Examiner in Comparative Re- 
ligion and Philosophy of Religion, Victoria 
University, Manchester ; author of The 
Religion of the Ancient Celts. 

Light and Darkness (Primitive), Locks 
and Keys, Lycanthropy, Maggie (Celtic), 
Metamorphosis, Miracles, Monsters 
(Ethnic), Mountains and Mountain- 
Gods, Mouth. 

Macdonell (AiiTHUii .Vnthony), M.A. (Oxon.), 
Ph.D. (Lui].zig). 
Boden l^rofcssor of Sanskrit in the University 
ofDxford; Fellow of lialliol College ; Fellow 
of the Hritish Acuilcniyj Fellow of the 
Royal Danish Academy ; Kee|)er of tlic 
Indian Institute, Oxford. 
Literature (Buddhist), Lotus (Indian), 
Magic (Vedic). 



MXCHAL(JAN), D.Ph. 

Ord. Professor of Slavic Literatures in the 
Bohemian University, Prague ; ord. Member 
of the Bohemian Academy ; Meml)er of the 
Royal Bohemian Society of Sciences. 
Marriage (Slavic). 

McIntyre (James Lewls), M.A. (Edin. and 
Oxon.), D.Sc. (Edin.). 
Anderson Lecturer in Comparative Psychology 
to the University of Aberdeen ; Lecturer in 
Psychology, Logic, and Ethics to the Aber- 
deen Provincial Committee for the Training 
of Teachers ; formerly Examiner in Phil- 
osophy to the University of Edinburgh ; 
author of Giordano Bruno (1903). 
Melancholy. 

Mackenzie (John Stuart), LL.D., Litt.D. 

Professor o*' Logic and Philosophy in Univer- 
sitj College of .South Wales and Monmouth- 
shire ; author of An Introduction, to Social 
Philosophy, A Mnnval of Ethics, Outlines 
of Metdjihysics, Lectures on Humanism, 
Metaphysics. 

Mackintosh (Hugh Ross), M.A., D.Phil. (Edin.), 
D.D. (Edin.). 
Professor of Systematic Theology in New 
College, Edinburgh ; author of T/ie Doctrine 
of the Person of Jesus Christ (1912). 
Mercy. 

Mackintosh (Robert), M.A., D.D. (Glas.), B.D. 

(Edin.). 
Professor of Ethics, Christian Sociology, and 
Apologetics in the Lancashire Independent 
College, and Lecturer in the University of 
Manchester. 
Monolatry and Henotheisra. 

Maclagan (P. J.), M.A., D.Phil. 

Of the English Presbyterian Mission, Swatow. 
Literature (Cliinese), Love (Chinese), 
Mencius, Micius. 

Maclean (Arthur John), D.D. (Camb.), Hon. 
D.D. (Glas.). 
Bishop of Moray, Ross, and Caithness ; author 
of Dictionary and Grainmar of Vernacular 
Syriac ; editor of East Syrian Liturgies. 
Light and Darkness (Christian), Ministry 
(Early Christian). 

McLean (Norman), M.A. 

Fellow and Senior Tutor of Christ's College ; 
Lecturer in Aramaic in the University of 
Cambridge ; joint-editor of The Larger 
Cambridge Edition of the Septuagint. 
Marcionism. 

Macphail (George R.), M.A. 

Minister of the United Free Church at 
Dundee. 
Men, The. 
Magnus (Leonard A.), LL.B. 

London ; editor of Russian Folk-Tales (1915). 
Magic (Slavic). 

Mair (Alexander William), M.A. (Aberd. and 
Camb.), LittD. (Aberd.). 
Sometime Fellow of Gonville and Caius Col- 
lege, Cambridge ; Professor of Greek in the 
Universily of Edinburgh ; editor of Jlesiod. 
Life and Death (Greek and Roman). 

Marett (Robert Ranulph), M.A., F.B.A. I. 

F'ellow of Exeter College, and Reader in 
.Social Anthropology in the University of 
Oxford ; author of The Threshold of Religion. 
Magic (Introductory), Mana. 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



Wakgououth (David Samuel), M.A., D.Litfc., 
F.B.A. 
Fellow of Now College, and Laudian Professor 
of Arabic in the Universityof Oxford ; author 
of Mohammed and the Rise of Istnni, Mo- 
hammedanism, The Early Develo}»ncnt of 
Mohammedan ism . 

Magic (Arabian and Muslim), Mahdi, 
Mecca, Medina, Muhammad, Muham- 
madanism (in Central Africa, in North 
Africa, in Arabia). 

Marshall (John Turnkr), M.A., U.D. 

Principal of Manchester Baptist College ; 
Lecturer in History of Christian Doctrine in 
Manchester University. 
Life and Death (Hebrew), Mammon. 

Maude (Joseph Hoopee), M.A. 

Rector of Pusey, Berks. ; Late Fellow and 
Dean of Hertford College, Oxford. 
Lit2iny. 

Mellone (S. H.), M.A. (Lond.), D.Sc. (Edin.). 
Principal of the Unitarian Home Missionary 
College, Manchester ; Lecturer in the His- 
tory of Christian Doctrine in the University 
of Manchester; author of Studies in Phil- 
osophical Criticism, Leaders of Beligious 
Thought in the Nineteenth Century. 
Mean. 

Modi (Shamsul-Ulma Jivanji Jamshedji), 
B.A., Hon. Ph.D. (Heidelberg). 
Fellow of the University of Bombay ; Dipl. 
Litteris et Artibus (Sweden) ; Officier d'Aca- 
deniie, France ; Officier de I'lnstruction 
Publique, France ; Secretary of the Anthro- 
pological Society of Bombay ; Vice-Presi- 
dent of the Bombay Branch of the Eoyal 
Asiatic Society. 
Marriage (Iranian). 

MouLTON (James Hope), M.A. (Cantab.), D.Lit. 
(Lond.),D.D. (Edin., Berlin, andGroningen), 
D.C.L. (Durham). 
Late Fellow of King's College, Cambridge ; 
Greenwood Professor of Hellenistic Greek 
and Indo-European Philology in the Uni- 
versity of Manchester ; Tutor in Didsbury 
Wesleyan College ; author of Gramtnar of 
New testament Greek (3rd ed. 1908), Religion 
and Religions (1913), Early Zoroastrianism 
(Hibliert Lectures, 1914). 
Magi. 

Nakajima (Tamakichi). 

Professor of Civil Law in the Imperial Uni- 
versity, Kyoto. 

Marriage (Japanese and Korean). 

Nicholson (Reynold Allevne), M.A., Litt.D., 
LL.D. 
Lecturer in Persian in the University of Cam- 
bridge ; sometime Fellow of Trinity College ; 
author of A Literary History of the Arabs 
(1907), the Tarjuman al-Aihwaq of Ibn al- 
Arabi, with translation and commentary 
(1911), The Mystics of Islam. (1914). 
Love (Muliamniadan), Ma'arri, Mazdak, 
Muhyi al-din ibn al-Arabi. 

Ottley (Robert Laurence), D.D. 

Regius Professor of Pastoral Theology, and 
Canon of Christ Church, Oxford ; author of 
The Doctrme of the Incarnation (1895), 
Aspects of the Old Testament (1897), The 
Religion of Israel (1905), and other works. 
Moderation. 



Paasonen (Henry), Ph.D. 

Professor of Finno-Ugric Philology in the Uni- 
versity of Helsingfors ; Vice-President of the 
Finno-Ugric Society. 
Mordvins. 

Parker (Edward Haepee), M.A. 

Professor of Chinese in the Victoria Uni- 
versity, Manchester; formerly H.M. Consul 
at ICiungchow. 
Mongols. 

Paton (John Lewis), M.A. 

High Master, Manchester Grammar School ; 
Late Fellow of St. John's College, Cam- 
bridge ; Member of Consultative Committee 
of the Board of Education. 
Mission (Inner). 

Paton (Lewis Bayles), Ph.D., D.D. 

Nettleton Professor of Old Testament Exegesis 
and Criticism, and Instructor in Assyrian, 
in Hartford Theological Seminary ; formerly 
Director of tlie American School of Archae- 
ology in Jerusalem ; author of The Early 
History of Syria and Palestine, Jerusalem. 
in Bible Times, The Early Religion of Israel. 
Love (Semitic and Egyptian). 

Peaeson (A. C), M.A. 

Sometime Scholar of Christ's College, Cam- 
bridge ; editor of Fragments of Zeno and 
Cleanthes, Eurijiides' Helena, Heraclidm, 
and Phomissce. 
Love (Greek), Mother of the Gods (Greek 
and Roman). 

Peteie (William Matthew Flinders), D.C.L. 
(Oxon.), LL.D. (Edin. and Aberd.), Litt.D. 
(Canib.), Ph.D. (Strassbuig). 
Fellow of the Royal Society and of the British 
Academy ; Edwards Profes-sor of Egyptology 
in the University of London. 
Lotus (Egyptian). 

Pope (Hugh), O.P., S.T.M., D.S.S. 

Formerly [Professor of New Testament 
Exegesis in the Collegio Angelico, Rome. 
Monarchianism. 

Popper (William), Ph.D. 

Associate Professor of Semitic Languages in 
the University of California, Berkeley. 
MuUa. 
Poussin (Louis de la Vall^ie), Docteur en phil- 
osophie et lettres (Li^ge), en langues orien- 
tales (Louvain). 
Professor de Sanscrit k I'universite de Gand ; 
Membre de TAcademie royale de Belgique ; 
Co-Directeur du Museon ; Membre de la 
R.A.S. et de la Societe asiatique. 
Lotus of the True Law?, Madhyaraaka, 
Magic (Buddhist), Mahavastu, Maha- 
yana, Manjusri, Mara, Materialism 
(Indian). 

Reid (James Smith), M.A., LL.D., Litt.D. 

Fellow and late Tutor of GonvUle and Caius 
College, Cambridge; Professor of Ancient 
History in the University of Cambridge ; 
editor of the Academiea and other works of 
Cicero ; author of Municipalities of the 
Roman Empire. 

Light and Darkness (Greek and Roman). 

Bendall (Gerald Henry), B.D., Litt.D., LL.D. 
Headmaster of Charterhouse, Cambridge ; 
formerly Principal and Professor of Greek, 
University of Liverpool ; Examining Chap- 
lain to tlie Lord Bishop of Chelmsford. 
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. 



AUTHORS OF ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



Uevon (MiciiKi.), LL.D., U.Lit. 

Professor of History of the Civilization of the 
Far East in tlie University of Paris ; for- 
merly Professor of Law in the Imperial Uni- 
versity of Tokyo and Legal Ad\-iser to the 
Japanese Government ; author of Le Shinn- 
toisine. 
Magic (Japanese). 

KlVERS (W. H. R.), M.A., M.D., F.R.S., F.K.C.P. 

Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge ; 

President of the Anthropological Section of 

the British Association in 1911 ; author of 

The Todns, History of Melanesinn SocUty, 

Kinship and Social Organisation. 

Marriag^e (Introductory and Primitive), 

Mother Right. 

KosE(H. A.), I.C.S. 
Panjab, India, 

Life and Death (Indian), Mag:ic (Indian). 

RoYCE (J0.SIAH), Ph.D., LL.D. 

Alford Professor of Natural Religion, Moral 
Philosophy, and Civil Polity in Harvard 
University ; Gilford Lecturer at the Uni- 
versity of Aberdeen, 1898-1900. 
Mind, Monotheism. 

Sayce (Archibald Henry), D.Litt. (Oxon.), 
LL.D. (Dublin), D.D. (Edin. and Aberd.), 
D.Phil. ( Christ iania). 
Fellow of Queen's College and Professor of 
Assyriology in the University of Oxford ; 
President of the Society of Biblical 
Archsology. 
Median Religion. 

ScHULHOF (John Maurice). See Hope (John 
Maurice Vaizey). 

Scott (William Robert), M.A., D.Phil., Litt.D., 
F.B.A. 
Adam Smith Professor of Political Economy 
in the University of Glasgow ; President of 
the Economics and Statistics Section of the 
British Association, 1915 ; author of Francis 
Hutcheson (1900), The Constitution and 
Finance of English, Scottish, and Irish Stock 
Companies to 17S0 (1910-12). 
Luxury, Malthusianism. 

Seaton (Mary Ethel). 

Mediaeval and Modern Languages Tripos, 
Class L, 1909 and 1910; Lecturer at Girton 
College, Cambridge. 
Life and Death (Teutonic). 

Skler (Eduard), Dr.Phil. 

Professor fiir Amerikanische Sprache, Volker- 
und Altertumskunde an der Uuiversitat zu 
Berlin ; Mitglied der Konigl. Preussischen 
Akadeniie der Wissenschaften ; Abt. Direk- 
tor de-s Konigl. Museums fur VoUcerkunde ; 
Professor onor. Mus.-Nac., Mexico. 
Mayans, Mexicans (.Vncient). 

Sell (Edward), B.D., D.D., M.K.A.S. 

Fellow of the University of Madra.s ; Hon. 
Canon of St. George's Cathedral, Madra.'i ; 
Secret;iry of the Church Missionary So<.:iety, 
MadriLS ; author of The Faith of Islam, The 
Historical Development of the Qur'dn, The 
Life of Muhammad, The Religious Orders of 
lilam. 
Mercy (Muslim). 



Shaw (Chaules Gray), Ph.D. 

Professor of Philnsopliy in the University of 
New York ; author of Christianity and 
Modern Culture, The Precimt of Religion, 
The Value and Dignity of Human Life. 
Moral Sense. 

Shedd (Willia.m A.), M.A. 

Of the Presbyterian Mission, Urumia, Persia. 
Muhammadanism (in Persia). 

Simon (John Smith), D.D. 

President of the Wesley Historical Society ; 
ex-President of the Wesleyan Methodist 
Conference. 
Methodism (History and Polity). 

Skeat (Walter W.), M.A. 

Official Lecturer at the British Museum ; 
sometime Scholar of Christ's College, Cam- 
bridge ; formerly of the CivU Service of the 
Federated Malay States ; author of Malay 
Magic (1900) ; joint-author of Pagan Races 
of the Malay Peninsula (1906). 
Malay Peninsula. 

Smith (Kirby Flower), Ph.D. (Johns Hoi'kins), 
LL.D. (Vermont). 
Professor of Latin in the Johns Hopkins 
University, Baltimore. 
Magic (Greek and Roman). 

Smith (Vincent Arthur), M.A. 

Of the Indian Civil Service (retired) ; author 
of Asoka in ' Rulers of India,' Early History 
of India, A History of Fine Art in India 
and Ceylon. 
Mathura. 

Spitz (Maternus), O.S.B. 

I'rofessor of Church History at St. Thomas' 
Abbey, Erdington, Birmingham ; Hon. 
Member of the International Association of 
Mission-Science. 
Missions (Christian, Roman Catholic). 

Stokes (George J.), M.A. (Trinity College, 
Dublin). 
Of Lincoln's Inn, Barrister-at-Law ; Professor 
of Philosophy and Jurisprudence in Univer- 
sity College, Cork, National University of 
Ireland. 
Motive. 

Strahan (James), M.A., D.D. 

Professor of Hebrew and Biblical Criticism in 
Magee College, Londonderry ; Cunningham 
Lecturer ; author of Hebrew Ideals, The 
Book of Job. 
Love (Christian and New Testament). 

SuFFRiN (Aaron Emmanuel), M.A. (Oxon.). 
Vicar of Watcrlooville, Hants. 
Memra. 

SVMES (John Klliotson), M.A. (Cantab.). 

Formerly Principal of University College, 
Nottingham j author of Political Economy, 
The Prelude to Modem History. 
Maurice. 

Taskeb (John G), D.D. 

Principal, and Professor of Church History and 
Apologetics, Wesleyan College, Handsworth, 
Birmingham. 
Longsuffering. 

Tennant (Freukrick Robert), D.D., B.Sc. 

Fellow and Lecturer of Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge. 
Materialism, Matter. 



AUTHORS OP ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME 



ziu 



Thomas (Frederick William), M.A. (Camb.), 
Hon. Ph.n. (Munich). 
Librarian of the India Office ; Reader in 
Tibetan in the University of London ; 
Lecturer in Comparative Philology in Uni- 
versity College, London ; formerly Fellow 
of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
Matrcheta. 

Thomson (J. Arthur), M.A., LL.D. 

Regius Professor of Natural History in the 
University of Aberdeen ; author of The 
Study of Animal Life, The Science of Life, 
Heredity, The Bible of Nature, Darwinism 
and Human Life, Outlines of Zoology, The 
Biology of the Seasons, Introduction to 
Science, The Wonder of Life. 
Life and Death (Biological). 

Thurston (Herbert), B.A., S.J. 

Joint-editor of the Westminster Library for 
Priests and Students ; author of Life of St. 
Hugh of Lincoln, The Holy Year of J^ibilee, 
The Stations of the Cross. 
Ligfuori, Loreto, Lourdes, Loyola. 

TozzER (Alfred Marston), Ph.D., F.R.G.S. 

Assistant Professor of Anthropology in the 
University of Harvard ; Curator of Middle 
American Archaeology in Peabody Museum, 
Harvard. 
Mexicans (Modem). 

VAMBfiEY (AEMINIUS). 

Late Professor of Oriental Languages in the 
University of Budapesth ; author of Travels 
in Central A sia. 
Muhammadanism (in Central Asia). 

Waddell (L. AusTiNE), C.B., CLE., LL.D., 
F.L.S., F.R.A.L, M.R.A.S., M.S.B.A., Lt.- 
Colonel I.M.S. (retired). 
Formerly Professor of Tibetan in University 
College, London ; author of The Buddhism 
of Tibet, Tribes of the Brahmaputra Valley, 
Lhasa and its Mysteries. 
Lotus (Indian [in Buddhism]). 



Weir (Thomas Hunter), B.D., M.K.A.S. 

Lecturer in Arabic in the University of 
Glasgow ; Examiner in Hebrew and Aramaic 
in the University of London. 

Muhammadanism (in Syria, Egypt, and 
Mesopotamia). 

Weitbrecht (Herbert Udny), Ph.D., D.D. 

Superintendent and Warden of the Mildmay 
Institutions, North London ; Hon. FeUow 
of the Panjab University ; chief Reviser of 
the Urdu New Testament. 

Missions (Christian, Protestant). 

Wentscher (Dr. Max). 

Professor der Philosophie an der Universitat 
Bonn. 

Lotze. 

Whitacre (tElred), O.P., Sac. Theol. Lector. 
Professor or Dogmatic Theology at the Dom- 
inican House of Studies, Hawkesyard Priory, 
Staffordshire. 
Molinism. 

Whitehead (Henry), D.D. (Oxon.). 

Bishop of Madras; formerly Fellow of Trinity 
College, Oxford. 
Madras and Coorg. 

Whitley (William Thomas), M.A., LL.D., 
F.R.Hist.S., F.T.S. 
Secretary of the Baptist Historical Society ; 
formerly Principal of the Baptist College of 
Victoria, and Secretary of the Victorian 
Baptist Foreign Mission. 
Mug-gletonians. 

Wilde (Norman), Ph.D. 

Professor of Philosophy and Psychology in the 
University of Minnesota. 
Moral Lav7. 

Woodhouse (William J.), M.A. 

Professor of Greek in the Uuiver.iity of 
Sydney, New South Wales. 
Marriage (Greek). 



ceoss-refere:n^ces 



-**^ 



In addition to the cross-references throughout the volume, the following list 
of minor references may be useful : 



Topic. 


Probable Title of 


&KTICLK. 


Topic. 


Probable Title of Articlb. 


Life, Wheel 


of . . Wheel of Life. 




Maximilianists 


. Sects (Christian). 


Light, Friends of . Deutsch-Katholicismus. 


Mazdasism . 


, . Zoroastrianism. 


Lizard . 


. Animals. 




Meliorism . 


, , Probabiliorism. 


Los von Ron 


I . . Sects (Christian). 




Mendelism . 


. Heredity. 


Love, Family 


' of . 




Mendicants . 


. Religious Orders (Christ- 


Low Church 


. Church, Doctrine 


of the 




ian). 




(Anglican). 




Menhirs 


. Stones. 


Lost 


. Desire. 




Mermaid 


. Water, Water-gods. 


Mabinogion 


. Celts. 




Michael 


. Demons. 


Madness 


. Insanity. 




Micronesia . 


. Australasia. 


Magpie 


, Animals. 




Midsummer 


. May. 


Manes . 


) . Ancestor - worship (Ro- 


Minorites 


. Religious Onlers (Christ- 




man). 






ian). 


Mang'anjas 


. Bantu and S. Afr 


ca. 


Mixtecs 


. Mexicans. 


Man-tigers 


. Lycanthropj-. 




Mock King . 


. King (Introductory). 


Mantis 


. Animals. 




Moine . 


. Fate (Greek and Ro- 


Marcellians 


. Sects (Christian). 






man). 


Marcites 






Molech, Moloch 


. Ammonites. 


Marcosians 


• • )) ») 




Moluccas 


. Indonesians, Malay Archi- 


Mariavites 


. Old Catholicism. 






pelago. 


Marks . 


. Symbols. 




Monergism . 


. Synergism. 


Maronites 


. Syrian Christians 




Monogamy . 


. Marriage. 


Martinists 


. Sects (Russian). 




Moors . 


. Muhammadanisra (in 


Maruts 


. Vedic Religion. 






Arabia). 


Mass6th 


. Festivals and 


Fasts 


More (Henry) 


. Cambridge Platonists. 




(Hebrew). 




Morelstshiki 


. Sects (Russian). 


Mathurists 


. Religious Orders 


(Christ- 


Moses . 


. Israel. 




ian). 




Mother of God 


. Mary. 


Maundy Th 


iiraday . Feet-wasliing. 




Mountain of tlie ^ 


Vorld Cosmogony and Cosmol- 


Maurists 


. Religious Orders 
ian). 


(Christ- 




ogy. 



LISTS OF ABBREVIATIONS 



I. General 



A.H.sAnno HiJTae (A.D. 622). 

Ak.= Akkadian. 

Alex. =AJexandrian. 

Amer. = American. 

Apoc.= Apocalypse, Apocalyptic. 

Apocr. = Apocrypha. 

Aq. = Aqulla. 

Arab. = Arabic. 

Aram. = Aramaic. 

Arm. = Armenian. 

Ary.= Aryan. 

As. = Asiatic. 

Assyr. = Assyrian. 

AT = Alte3 Testament. 

A V = Authorized Version. 

AVm = Authorized Version margin. 

A.Y. =Anno Yazdagird (A.D. 639). 

Bab. = Babylonian. 

c. = circa, about. 

Can. = Canaanite. 

cf.= compare. 

ct. = contrast. \ 

D = Deuteronomist. 

E = Elohist. 

edd. = editions or editors. 

Egyp. = Egyptian. 

Eng.= English. 

Eth. = Ethiopic. 

EV, EW = English Version, Versions. 

f. =and following verse or page. 

ff. =and following ,verses or pages. 

Fr. = French. 

Germ. = German. 

Gr.= Greek. 

H = Law of Holiness. 

Heb. = Hebrew. 

Hel. = Hellenistic. 

Hex. = Hexateuch. 

Himy. =Himyaritic. 

Ir. = Irish. 

Iran. = Iranian. 



Isr. = Israelite. 

J=Jahwist. 

J" = Jehovah. 

Jems. = Jerusalem. 

Jos. = Josephus. 

LXX = Septuagtnt. 

Min. =Min8ean. 

MSS = Manuscripts. 

MT = Massoretic Text. 

n. =note. 

NT = New Testament. 

Onk. =Onkelos. 

0T = 01d Testament. 

P = Priestly Narrative. 

Pal. = Palestine, Palestinian. 

Pent. = Pentateuch. 

Pers. = Persian. 

Phil. = Philistine. 

Phoen. = Phoenician. 

Pr. Bk. = Prayer Book. 

R = Redactor. 

Rom. = Roman. 

RV = Revised Version. 

RVra = Revised Version margin. 

Sab. = Sabii?an. 

Sam. = Samaritan. 

Sem. = Semitic. 

Sept. = Septuagint. 

Sin. = Sinai tic. 

Skr. = Sanskrit. 

Symm. = Symmachus. 

Syr. = Syriae. 

t. {following a number) = times. 

Talm.= Talmud. 

Targ. = Targum. 

Theod. =Theodotion. 

TR=Textus Receptus, Received Text. 

tr. = translated or translation. 

VSS = Versions. 

Vulg., Vg.= Vulgate. 

WH = Westcott and Hort's text. 



n. Books of the Bible 



Old Testament. 



Gn= Genesis. 

Ex = Exodus. 

Lv = Leviticus. 

Nu = Numbers. 

Dt = Deuteronomy. 

Jos = Joshua. 

Jg= Judges. 

Ru = Ruth. 

1 S, 2S = 1 and 2 Samuel. 

1 K, 2 K=l and 2 Kings. 

1 Ch, 2 Ch = l and 2 

Chronicles. 
Ezr = Ezra. 
Neh = Neheraiah. 
Est = Esther. 
Job. 

Ps = Psalms. 
Pr = Proverbs. 
Ec = Ecclesiastes. 



Ca = Canticles. 
Is = Isaiah. 
Jer = Jeremiah. 
La = Lamentat ions. 
Ezk = Ezekiel. 
Dn = Daniel. 
Hos = Hosea. 
Jl = Joel. 
Am = Amos. 
Ob = Obadiah. 
Jon=:Jonah. 
Mic = Micah. 
Nah = Nahum. 
Hab = Habakkuk. 
Zeph = Zephaniah. 
Hag=Haggai. 
Zec = Zechariah. 
Mal = Malachi. 



Apocryp^ifi. 



1 Es, 2Es = l and 2 

Esilras. 



To = Tobit. 

Jth = Judith. 



Ad. Est = Additions to 

Esther. 
Wis = Wisdom. 
Sir = Sirach or Ecclesi- 

asticus. 
Bar = Baruch. 
Three = Sung of the Three 

Children. 

New Testament. 
1 Th, 



Sus = Susanna. 

Bel = Bel and the 

Drasun. 
I'r. Man = Prayer of 

Manasses. 
1 Mac, 2 Mac = l and 2 

Maccabees. 



Mt = Matthew. 
Mk = Mark. 
Lk = Luke. 
Jn = John. 
Ac = Acts. 
Ro = Romans. 
1 Co, 2 Co = 1 

Corinthians. 
Gal = Galatians. 
Epb = Ephesians. 
Ph = Philippians. 
Col = Colossians. 



:1 and 2 



2 Th = 

Thessalonians. 
1 Ti, 2 Ti = l and 2 

Timothy. 
Tit = Titus. 
Philem = Philemon, 
and 2 He = Hebrews. 
.Ia=James. 

1 P,2P=1 and 2 Peter. 
1 Jn, 2 Jn, 3 Jn = l, 2, 

and 3 John. 
.Jude. 
Rev = Revelation. 



LISTS OF ABBREVIATIONS 



III. For thb Litbratube 



I. The following anthors' names, when unaccuinpanioil by tlie title of a book, stand for 

the works in the lint below. 



'Baet\\i:en=Seiliafie zur sent. Belief ionsgesch., 1888. 
Baldwin = Z)i(/. of Philosophy and Psycluilogy, 

3 vols. 1901-19115. 
3a.'M\ = Kominalbildang in den sem. Sprachcn, 

2 vols. 1889, 1891 (»1894). 
Benzintrei=^cft. Archdologie, 1894. 
Brockelraann = (?f.«7t. d. arab. Litteratur, 2 vols. 

1897-1902. 
Bruns - Sachau = S>/r. - Rum. Bechtsburh mis dem 

fiinften Jahrhnndcrt, 1880. 
Budge = Gods nf the Egyptians, 2 vols. 1903. 
Darciiiber^-Saglio = Z>i<.-<. dcs ant. grec. et rom., 

1886-90. 
De la Saus8aye = ieAr6i(cA dcr Eeligionsgesch.', 

1905. 
T>eminfieT = Enchiridion Symbolorum^^, Freiburg 

im Br., 1911. 
Deus.sen = i)ie Philos. d. Upanishads, 1899 [Eng. 

tr., 1906]. 
Douglity=^mA»rt Dcserta, 2 vols. 1888. 
Gnmm = Deutsche Mythnlogie*, 3 vols. 1875-1878, 

Eng. tr. Teutonic Mythology, 4 vols. 1882-1888. 
YianibMrgeT = RealencyclopddicfiirB>bel ii. Talmud, 

i. 1870 (=1892), ii. 1883, suppl. 1886, 1891 f., 1897. 
Ho\der = AlttrHu-<ch^r Spmchscha/;, 1891 11". 
Holtzniann-Zoptlel = ica;ico7! /. Theol. u. Kirchen- 

wcsen^, 1895. 
Howitt =/^a<U'e Tribes of S. E. Australia, 1904. 
Jubainville = CoMr« de Litt. celfiquc, i.-xii., 1883 ft". 
Lagrange = Etudessur Ics religions simitigues-, 1904. 
Lane = il» Arabic-English Dictionari/, 1863 ff. 
La.ng = Myth, Ritual and Eel igion^, 2 vols. 1899. 
Lepsins = Denkmdler aus yEgypten u. ^thiopien, 

1849-1860. 
Lichtenberger=£n<'!/c. des sciences religieuses, 1876. 
Lidzbarski = 5ararf6MoA der nordsem. Epigraphik, 

1898. 
'iAcC\iidiy = History, Propliecy, and the Monuments, 

2 vols. 1894-1896. 
Muir= On'^. Sanskrit Texts, 1858-1872. 
Mus8-Amolt = ^ Concise Diet, of the Assyrian 

Language, 1894 ff. 



Nowack = icAriMcA d. hcb. Archdologie, 2 vols. 

1894. 
Pauly-Wissowa = iieu/cncyr. der classischen Alter- 

tumsuisscnschaft, 1894 ff. 
Perrot-Chipiez = ^Mi. de VArt dans VAntiquitf, 

1881 ft". 
Vre\\cr= Roinischc Mytliologie, 1858. 
l{eville = AW/i/iwn dcs pciiplfs non-civilis(s, 1883. 
Kiehm = Handirortcrbnrh d. bibl. Altertums", 1893- 

1894. 
Robinson = ij'/i/i/r(/ Researches in Palestine-, 1856. 
Roscher = icx. il. gr. ti. riitn. Mythologic, 1884 ff. 
Schaff-Herzog--7V((; New Sehaff-Herzog Encyclo- 
pedia of nclig. Knowledge, 1908 ft". 
Schonkel=£/W-/,ea;io(m, 5 vols. 1869-1875. 
Schurer = GJ'F3, 3 vols. 1898-1901 [HJP, 5 vols. 

1890 ft".]. 
Sehwally=ir(ie» nach dcm Tode, 1892. 
Siegfried-Stade = fl'e6. U'drterbuch zum AT, 1893. 
SmeMd = i<;/i;-6HcA der alttest. Rel igionsgesch,\ 

1899. 
Smith (G. A.) = Historical Geography of the Holy 

Land*, 1896. 
Smith (W. R.) = Religion of the Semites", 1894. 
Spencer {H.) = Principles of Sociology^, 1885-1896. 
SpeaceriMWen' = Xative Tribesof Central Australia, 

1899. 
Spencer-Gillen *• = Northern Tribes of Central 

Australia. 1904. 
Swete = rAe OT in Greek, 3 vols. 1893 ff. 
Tylor (E. B.) = Primitive Culture", 1891 [n903]. 
Ueberweg = i?i'«<. of Philosophy, Eng. tr., 2 vols. 

1 872- 1874. 
Wehei — Jiidisehe Theologie auf Grund des Talmud 

u. verwandten Sehriften-, 1897. 
Wiedemann = Die Religion der alten Aegypter, 

1890 [Eng. tr., revised. Religion of the Anc. 

Egyptians, 1897]. 
Wilkinson = .l/aji)ie« and Customs of the Ancient 

Eijiiptians, 3 vols. 1878. 
Z\\nz = Die gottesdienstlichen Vortrdge der Juden", 

1892. 



Periodicals, Dictionaries, Encyclopaedias, and other standard works frequently cited. 



AA = Archiv fiir Anthropologie. 

^4.40^" = American Antiquarian and Oriental 
Journal. 

ABA W = .\bhandlungen d. Berliner Akad. d. 
"Wissenschaften. 

.i4£=Archiv fUr Ethnographie. 

AEG — \s»yT. and Eng. Glossary (Johns Hopkins 
University). 

ylCy = -\bhandlungen der Gottinger Gesellschaft 
der Wissenscliiiften. 

AGPh = Axc\\\\- fiir (ieschichte der Philosophie. 

j4 H£ = American Historical Review. 

.(4 fl^r= Ancient Hebrew Tradition (Hommel). 

yl ./PA = American Journal of Philology. 

.(4.//'.« = American Journal of Psychology. 

yl/ii'/'£ = Anieritan Joumal of Religious Psycho- 
logy and Eduiation. 

^./iS'Z.=Aiiifcrican Journal of Semitic Languages 
and Literature. 

./4J'7'A = American Journal of Theology. 

j4J1/G = Annales du Musee Guimet. 

.<4/'jBS = American Palestine Exploration Society. 

APF=Axch\M fiir Panyrusforschung. 

ylii = Anthropological Review. 

..4 B1K= Archiv fiir Religionswissenschaft. 

.^S=Acta Sanctorum (Bollandus). 



.<4iS(T = Abhandlungen der S^chsischen Gesellschaft 

der Wissenschaften. 
.i4iSoc = L'Annee Sociolofxique. 
^5W/=Arch*oloci(aI Survey of W. India. 
.4^=Allgemeine Zeitung. 
Bj4ff = Beitriige zur alten Geschichte. 
iJ.,4SS'=Beitritge zur .Vssyriologie u. sem. Sprach- 

wissenschaft (edd. Delitzsch and Haupt). 
fiCfl^= Bulletin de Correspondance Hell6nique. 
B£'= Bureau of Ethnology. 
i?(r = Bombay Gazetteer. 
£J'=Bellum Judaicum (Joaephus). 
iJi = Bampton Lectures. 
£Zj5 = Bulletin dc I.itt^rature Eccl^siastique. 
£OiJ = Bab. and Oriental Record. 
BS= Bibliotheca Sacra. 

BSA = Annual of the British School at Athens. 
fi6'.4yl = Bulletin de la Soe. archeologique ti Alex- 

andrie. 
BiSj4i = I!ulletindelaSoc. d'AnthropologiedeLyon. 
B5JP = Bulletin de la Soc. d' Anthropologie, etc., 

Paris. 
B5G = Bulletin de la Soc. de Giographie. 
2}rS= Buddhist Text Society. 
£ir= Biblical World. 
B.?=Bibli6che Zeitschrift. 



LISTS OP ABBREVIATIONS 



C^4/i?i = Comptes rendus de rAoadimie des In- 
scriptions et Belles-Lettres. 

CBT,S'= Calcutta Kuddhist Text Society. 

C£=CatlioIie Encyclopaodia. 

C/'= Chiklliood of Fiction (MacCulIoch). 

e(7,S'= Cults of the Greek States (Famell). 

C/= Census of India. 

CIA = Corpus Inscrip. Atticarum. 

C/£ = Corpus Inscrip. Etruscarnm. 

CIG = Corpus In.scrip. Grsecarum. 

C7X = Corpus Inscrip. Latinarum. 

C7S'=Cor]ius Inscrip. Semiticarum. 

COT= Cuneiform Inscriptions and the OT [Eng. 
tr. oiKAf; see below]. 

CiJ= Contemporary Review. 

CeiJ = Celtic Review. 

C/iJ= Classical Review. 

C()iJ= Church Quarterly Review. 

CSEL = Corpus Script. Eccles. Latinorum. 

DACL = Diet. d'Arch^ologie chr^tienne et de 
Liturgie (Cabrol). 

DB = T)iet. of the Bible. 

DCA =Dict. of Christian Antiquities (Smith- 
Cheetham). 

DCB = Dict. of Christian Biography (Smith- 
Waee). 

jDC(T = Dict. of Christ and the Gospels. 

D/=Dict. of Islam (Hughes). 

DNB = Dict. of National Biography. 

DPhP = 'Dict. of Philosophy and Psychology. 

Z))F.^?T' = Denk.schriften der Wiener Akad. der 
Wissenschaften. 

^jBi = Encyclopaedia Bihlica. 

EBr = Ency clopfedia Britanniea. 

EEFM='Egyp. Explor. Fund Memoirg. 

£■/= Encyclop.'edia of Islam. 

EEE = The present work. 

Exj) = Expositor. 

£2507= Expository Times. 

.FffG = Fragmenta Historicorum Grsecorum (coll. 
C. Miiiler, Paris, 1885). 

i?X=Folklore. ' 

FLJ=FoUdoT& Journal. 

i^ifi = Folklore Record. 

GA = Gazette Archeologique. 

Gi) = Golden Bough (Frazer). 

GG^ =Gottingische Gelehrte Anzeigen. 

G(?iV=Gottingische Gelehrte Nachrichten (Nach- 
richten der konigl. Gesellschaft der Wissen- 
schaften zu Gottingen). 

G/.i4P=Grundri.ss d. Indo-Arisehen Philologie. 

G/»-P= Grundriss d. Iranischen Philologie. 

Gt/K=Geschichte des jUdischen Volkes. 

G F/= Geschichte des Volkes Israel. 

HA 1= Handbook of American Indians. 

fi'£).B = Hastings' Diet, of the Bible. 

HE = Historia Ecclesiastica. 

i?Gi?i = Historical Geography of the Holy Land 
(G. A. Smith). 

fl'/= History of Israel. 

BJ=: Hibbert Journal. 

i7J^i'= History of the Jewish People. 

i7iV= Historia Naturalis (Pliny). 

i?)'F2J = Hand wcirterbuch. 

lA = Indian Antiquary, 

ICC= International Critical Commentary. 

/CO = International Congress of Orientalists. 

7C'i2 = Indian Census Report. 

/G = Inscrip. Grcecre (publ. under auspices of Berlin 
Academy, 1873 if.). 

/G -4 = Inscrip. GrjECoe Antiquisslmas. 

/Gi'= Imperial Gazetteer of India" (1885); new 
edition (1908-1909). 

/J'E' = Intem,ational Journal of Ethics. 

/r£ = International Tlieological Library. 

^■.(4 = Journal Asiatique. 

J^-4 Pi = Journal of American Folklore. 

t^yl7= Journal of the Anthropological Institute. 



<7'.flGS= Journal of the American Oriental Society. 
J^^.S'i5 = Journal of the Anthropological Society of 

Bombay. 
JASBe = -l<:>\xm. of As. Soc. of Bengal. 
</J5i = Journal of Biblical Literature. 
t7iJrjS'= Journal of the Buddhist Text Society. 
t/Z) = Journal des D^bats. 
J'/>7% = Jahrbiicher f. deutsche Theologie. 
JE = Jewish Encyclopedia. 

JG05^= Journal of the German Oriental Society. 
J77G= Johns Hopkins University Circulars. 
J///S= Jomnal of Hellenic .Studies. 
1^7.2= Jenaer Litteraturzeitung. 
</PA = Journal of PhUology. 

J'P7'A = Jahrbiicher fiir protestantische Theologie. 
JPra=Journal of the P.ali Text Society. 
J^^P= Jewish Quarterly Review. 
t/.fi^/= Journal of the Rojal Anthropological 

Institute. 
J'^iJ.i4.S= Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society. 
t7i2.(4)S'Po = Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 

Bombay branch. 
JItASC=3oviins\ of the Royal Asiatic Society, 

Ceylon branch. 
JRASK=3o\ui\a.\ of the Royal Asiatic Society, 

Korean branch. 
JRGS= J ouxnaX of the Royal Geographical Society. 
JThSt=3ovLma,\ of Theological Studies. 
KAT^ = T)\s Keilinschriften und das AT^ 

(Schrader), 1883. 
/fr.^7'^ = Zinimern-Winckler's ed. of the preceding 

(really a totally distinct work), 1903. 
KB or KIB = Keilinschriftliche Bibliothek (Schra- 
der), 1889 iX. 
^■0^= Keilinschriften und die Geschichtsfor- 

schung, 1878. 
LCBl = Literariselies Centralblatt. 
iOPA = Literaturblatt fiir Oriental. Philologie. 
iOr= Introduction to Literature of OT (Driver). 
i.P = Legend of Perseus (Hartland). 
LSSt = l,eipzigeT sem. Studien. 
7iy = Melusine. 
J7.4XBi = Jleinoires de I'Acad. des Inscriptions et 

Belles-Lettres. 
MBA W = Monatsbericht d. Berliner Akad. d. 

AVissenschaften. 
.WGi? =Monumenta Germaniiie Historica (Pertz). 
iI/GJ'F = Mittheilungen der Gesellschaft fiir jud- 

ische Volkskunile. 
MG WJ= Monatsschrift fiir Geschichteund Wissen- 

schaft des Judentums. 
Af/= Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas 

(Westermarck). 
MNDPV = Mittlieilungen u. Nachrichten des 

deutschen Paliistina-Vereins. 
ATP = Methodist Review. 

MVG = Mittheilungen der vorderasiatischen Gesell- 
schaft. 
MWJ = Magazin fur die Wissenschaft des 

Judentums. 
NBA C= Nuo vo Bulletino di Archeologia Cristiana. 
NC= Nineteenth Century. 
iV/TlFP = Neuhebriiisches Wbrterbuch. 
A'/A'§= North Indian Notes and Queries. 
JVifZ = Neue kirchliche Zeitschrift. 
NQ = Notes and Queries. 

A''P = Native Races of the Pacific States (Bancroft). 
NTZG = Neutestamentliche Zeitgeschichte. 
OED = 0-s.ion\ English Dictionary. 
OLZ= Orientalisehe Litteraturzeitung. 
O6'=0nomastica Sacra. 
OTJC=0\d. Testament in the Jewish Church (W. 

R. Smith). 
OJ'P= Oriental Translation Fund Publications. 
P.4 05= Proceedings of American Oriental 

Society. 
P.4/SiJ = Proceedings of the Anthropological Soc. of 
Bombay. 



LISTS OF ABBREVIATIONS 



Pi5 = Polyihrome Bible (F.ii;;lisih). 

PBE= Publications of the Bureau of Ethnology. 

/'t'= rrimitive Culture (Tylor). 

i'/i'/W= Palestine Exploration Fund Memoirs. 

PEFSf = Palestine Exploration Fund l^uarterly 

Statement. 
PG = Patrologia Gra-ca (Migne). 
PJ^iJ = Preussische Jahrbiiclier. 
PJ[/ = PatroloKia Latina (Migne). 
P.V§ = Punjab Notes and Queries. 
PiJ=Poi>ular Keligion and Folklore of N. India 

(t'rouke). 
PiJ£"=Prot. Kealencyclopadie (Herzofr-Hauck). 
/'iJiC = Presbyterian and Uetormed Review. 
/'7?.S=Pri>ceudings of the Koyal Society. 
PRSE=Vxoc6KdmiSfi Eoyal Soc. of Edinburgh. 
PSBA = Proceedings of the Society of Biblical 

Arcliieology. 
P2'^=Pnli Text Society. 
BA =Uevue Archeologique. 
RAnth=\Xi;\\\e d'Anthropologie. 
i?^5= Royal Asiatic Society. 
RAssi/r = \ie\\xe d'AssyrioIogie. 
iJB = Kevue Biblique. 
ii'iiA')l"= Reports of the Bureau of Ethnology 

(Washington). 
RC= Revue Critique. 
JJCe/ = Revue Celtique. 
i?CA = Revue Chretienne. 
/i'Z)Jf= Revue des Deux Mondes. 
i2A'= Re.ilencyoloijjidie. 
jB£'(? = Revue" ijes litudes Grecquea. 
.R/i'3 = Revue Egyptologique. 
i?£'.A= Revue des i^tudes .luives. 
iJ£<A = Revue d'Ethnographie. 
RHLIt =lievne d'Uistoire et de Litterature Re- 

ligieuses. 
liHIi=Revue de I'Histoire des Religions, 
if A'= Revue Numismatique. 
Ji;P = Records of the Past. 
iiP/i = Revue Philosopliique. 
RQ= RiJmisclie Quartalsclirif t. 
RS = Revue seinitique d'fipigraphie et d'Hist. 

ancienne. 
iJ.?.<4 = Recueil de la Soo. archeologique. 
iiS/= Reports of the Smithsonian Institution. 
i{jrjlP = llecueil de Travaux relatifs a rArch6ologie 

et it la Philologie. 
i;7'P = Revue des traditions populaires. 
Ji7V(PA= Revue de Theologie et de Philosophie. 
iil2V = Recueil de Travaux. 
J?FK=Religionsgeschichtliche Vereuche und Vor- 

arbeituiigen. 
RWB = Reahvorterbuch. 
SB A (F = Sitzungsberichte d. Berliner Akademie d. 

Wissenschaften. 



.?B/J = Sacred Books of the Buddhists. 
S'/iii' = Sacred Books of the East. 
iSBcr= Sacred Books of the OT (Hebrew). 
SZ)ii = Single-vol. Diet, of the Bible (Hastings). 
Sfi'=Studien und Kritiken. 

S^/^=Sitzungsb()richte d. Miinchener Akadeniie. 
■S'iS'<?W=Sitzuugsberichte d. Kgl. Sachs. Gesellsch. 

d. Wissenscliafteu. 
SWA (K=Sitzung3berichte d. Wiener Akademie d. 

Wissenschaften. 
TAP A = Transactions of American Philological 

Association . 
TAS.I = Transactions of the Asiatic Soc. of 

.Japan. 
r(7= Tribes and Castes. 
Til's = Transactions of Ethnological Society. 
jrAiy.^= Theologische Litteraturzeitung. 
i'Ar=Theol. Tijdschrift. 

TififS- Transactions uf Royal Historical Society. 
r.BS'^s Transactions of Royal Soc. of Edinljurgh. 
r.S'=Texts and Studies. 

TSBA = Transactions of the Soc. of Biblical Archae- 
ology. 
?'f7=Texte und Untersuehungen. 
HMi= Western Asiatic Inscriptions. 
?r'.^AM/= Wiener Zeitschrift f. Kunde de.s Morgen- 

landes. 
.Z'4. = Zeitschrift fiir Assyriologie. 
Z.^=Zeitschrift fiir iigyp. Sprache u. Altertunis- 

wissenschaft. 
ZATIV = ZeitMthrift fUr die alttest. Wisseu- 

schaft. 
^CA'=Zeitschrift fiir christUche Kunst. 
ZCP = Zeitsc1irift fiir celtische Philologie. 
ZDA = Zeitschrift fiir deutsches Altertuin. 
ZDMG = Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenland- 

ischen Gesellschaft. 
ZDPV = Zeitschrift des deutachen Pala-stina- 

Vereins. 
ZJE = Zeitschrift fiir Ethnologic. 
2'iirF= Zeitschrift fiir Keilschriftforschung. 
irA"(? = Zeitschrift fiir Kirchengesoliicbte. 
.?Arr= Zeitschrift fur kathol. Theologie. 
ZA'iri = Zeitschrift fiir kirchl. Wissenschaft und 

kirchl. Leben. 
Zj1/= Zeitschrift fiir die Mythologie. 
ZNTW = Zeitschrift fiir die neutest. Wissen- 

.scliaft. 
ZPhP = Zeitschrift fiir Philosophie und Pada- 

gogik. 
Zr/v =Zeitschrift fiir Theologie und Kirche. 
2 FA" = Zeitschrift fiir Volkskuude. 
^I'AMI' = Zeitschrift fiir vcrgleichende Rechts- 

wissenschaft. 
ZWT = Zeitschrift fiir wissenschaftliche Theo- 
logie. 



[A small superior number designates the particular edition of the work referred to, 

a&KAT\ iOr», etc.] 



ENCYCLOPEDIA 

OF 

EELIGION AND ETHICS 



LIFE AND DEATH. 



Biological (J. A. Thomson), p. 1. 
Primitive (A. E. Crawley), p. 9. 
American (A. E. Crawley), p. 13. 
Babylonian. — See Death and Disposal of the 

Dead (Babylonian), State of the Dead 

(Babylonian). 
Buddhist.— See Death and Disposal of the 

Dead (Buddbist). 
Celtic— See Blest, Abode of (Celtic), Celts. 
Chinese (J. Dyer Ball), p. 14. 
Christian (W. F. COBB), p. 16. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Biological).— The char- 
acteristic quality, common to plants, animals, and 
man, which distinguishes them from all other 
things, i3 what we call ' life.' It cannot be defined 
in terms of anything else, but what the concept 
implies may be illustrated ; and that is the aim of 
this article. The word ' life ' is often used to denote 
the living creature's complete sequence of activi- 
ties and experiences throughout the period during 
wliieh it is alive ; as when we say that an eagle 
has a very long, busy, and free life. It is also used as 
a short word for what is almost always going on in 
connexion with living creatures — their acting upon 
their environment and reacting to it ; and it is, of 
course, quite clear and useful to say that life con- 
sists of action and reaction between organism and 
environment. We must, indeed, be careful never 
to lose sight of the fact that life is a relation. But 
what we wish to discern is the characteristic quality 
of organisms, one term in the relation. It may 
also be noted that ' life ' is a distinctively biological 
concept, and that there is always a risk in trans- 
ferring it to other fields. No harm is done, perhaps, 
in speaking of mental, moral, social, and spiritual 
life ; but one may beg important questions in speak- 
ing of the life of crystals. By death we mean here 
the cessation of an organism's individual life, a 
fatal disruption of the unity of the organism. 
There is no confusion in using the same word for 
the end of the individual as such, and for the ap- 
parently irreversible process which leads to the end. 

I. General characteristics of living organisms. 
— Many biologists have sought to sum up the char- 
vol. viii. — I 



Egyptian (A. H. Gardiner), p. 19. 

Greek and Roman (A. W. Mair), p. 25. 

Hebrew (J. T. Marshall), p. 31. 

Indian (H. A. Rose), p. 34. 

Iranian (L. H. Gray), p. 37. 

Japanese (M. Anesaki), p. 37. 

Jewish (M. Joseph), p. 39. 

Roman. — See 'Greek and Roman.' 

Slavic— See Aryan Religion, Death and 

Disposal of the Dead (Slavic). 
Teutonic (M. E. Seaton), p. 42. 

acteristics of living organisms, but no formulation 
has won general acceptance. 'This doubtless means 
that the insignia of life have not yet been discerned 
either wholly or in their proper perspective. One 
of the clearest statements is given by Roux ( VII 
Internat. Zoological Congress Boston, Cambridge, 
U.S.A., 1912, p. 436), who recognizes five ' element- 
ary functions': (1) self -dissimilation ; (2) self- 
preservation, including assimilation, growth, 
movement, etc. ; (3) self -multiplication ; (4) self- 
development ; and (5) self -regulation in the exercise 
of all functions, including self -differentiation, self- 
adjustment, self-adaptation, and, in many organ- 
isms, distinctly recognizable psychical functions. 
The persistent use of the prefix self, on the part 
of the founder of Entwicktungsmechanik, is very 
interesting. Przibram [Experimentdle Zoologie, 
iv.) arranges ' the criteria of life ' in three groups — 
morphological, chemical, and physiological. The 
morphological characteristic is some measure of 
differentiation or heterogeneity of structure, which 
distinguishes even the simplest orgajiism from a 
crystal. The chemical characteristic is the invariable 
presence of albuminoid substances in a colloid state. 
The physiological characteristic is to be found in 
growth and in the movement of parts. Another 
way of stating the general characteristics of organ- 
isms will now be expounded — under three heads. 

(1) Persistence of complex specific metabolism 
and of specific organization.— We place in the 
forefront the fact that the organism is typically 
in continual flux and yet retains its integrity. 
Chemical change is the rule of the world, but the 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



peculiarities in tlie case of organit.nis are («) that 
many of the changes are very foniplex, having in 
part to do with uroteiils ; (b) that they are specific 
for each kind of creature; and (c) that they are 
correlated in such a way that they continue and 
the associated structure persists. Each of these 
peculiarities requires some exjiosition. («) Many 
chemical changes occur in the living organism, and 
some of them are relatively simple, hut the essen- 
tial changes appear to be concerned with proteid 
or albuminoid substances, which are always jiresent. 
These compounds are peculiarly intricate, with a 
large number of atoms or atom-groups in their 
molecules ; they ditl'use very .slowly and do not 
readily pass through membranes ; they occur in a 
colloid state, and, although some are crystallizable, 
e.g. hemoglobin, they are not known in a crystal- 
loid state in the living organism ; tliey are relatively 
stable ))odies, yet tiiey are continually breaking 
down and lieiug built up again in the living body, 
I)artly under the direct inlluence of ferments or 
enzymes. The constructive, synthetic, up-building, 
winding-up processes are sumined uji in the leriu 
'anaboTism'; the disruptive, analytic, down- 
breaking, running-down processes are summed up 
in the term 'katabolism,' both sets of ]iroce.sses 
being included in the terra ' metabolism,' for which 
we have, unfortunately, no English equivalent 
like the tine German word Stoffwec/isel, ' change of 
stufl'.' 

(6) It is a noteworthy fact tliat each kind of 
organism, so far as we know, has its specitic meta- 
bolism, its own chemical individuality. This is 
often well illustrated by the diti'erence in the ana- 
logous chemical products of related species. There 
is chemical speciticity in the milk of nearly related 
animals and in the grapes of nearly related vines. 
It has become possible of recent years to make 
absolutely sure, within given limits, of the kind 
of animal to which a blood-stain is due — e.g., 
whether horse or ass. The familiar fact that there 
are people who cannot eat certain kinds of food — 
«.<;., eggs, milk, oysters, crabs — without more or less 
serious symptoms is an illustration of specificity 
which is actually individual. It looks as if a man 
is individual not only to his linger-prints, but to 
his chemical molecules. We come back to what 
was said of old : ' All flesh is not the same flesh : 
but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh 
of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds ' 
(1 Co IS'*). 

(<•) In the ordinary chemical changes of the inor- 
ganic world, as in the weathering of rocks into 
soil, one substance changes into another. The 
same sort of thing goes on in the living body, 
but the characteristic feature is a balancing of 
accoMnts so that the specific activity continues. 
We lay emphasis on this characteristic since it 
seems fundamental — the capacity of continuing in 
spite of change, of continuing, indeed, through 
change. An organism was not worthy of the name 
until it showed, for a short time at least, not merely 
activity, but persistent activity. The organism is 
like a clock, inasmuch as it is always running down 
and always being wound up ; but, unlike a clock, 
it can wind itself up, if it gets food and rest. The 
chemical processes are so correlated that up- 
building makes further down-breaking ])08sible ; 
the pluses balance the minuses ; and the creature 
liveson. We are familiar with the self-preservative 
activities of higher animals, but not less important 
is the continualmain tenance of the specific chemical 
activity of each cell and of the correlated invisible 
Btructure or organization. It is an extraordinary 
fact that a particular functional activity in a nervous 
system may be restored after the destruction of the 
nerve-cells and fibres on which the activity pre- 
viously depended — a fact all the more remarkable 



since in higher animals there is no regeneration of 
nerve-cells, liut not less important is the manner 
in which a unicellular organism can spend its sub- 
stance and yet, as it were, have it, because of the 
fundamental capacity for self-renewal. 

To what has just been said several saving clauses 
must be added to prevent raisunderstauding. (o) 
The organism is no exception to the law of the 
conservation of energy. In doing work and even 
in mere living it expends energy and suffers wear 
and tear. It cannot continue active unless it 
cajitures more energy and has time for rest and 
repairs. Hut its chemical activities are so corre- 
lated that it remains for a considerable time a 
going concern. Fatigue, senescence, and death 
show that its fundamental capacity for self-main- 
tenance is not perfect. (/3) A particular chemical 
reaction that takes place in an organism may 
sometimes bt repeated in artificial isolation, and, 
when this can be done, it is plain that there is 
nothing characteristicallj' vital about it. It is the 
same in the eagle as in the test-tube. But in the 
liviii" organism it is a link in a concatenated series 
which makes for self-repair and continuance. The 
riddle of life is that of the burning bush — 'nee 
tamen consumebatur.' (7) If a living organism 
were to be minced up quickly, no change of chemi- 
cal composition would necessarily occur for some 
little time. But what exhibition would there be 
of the alleged fundamental characteristic of self 
repair ? It may be answered that the niiiiced-up 
organism would be dead, whereas we are dealing 
at present with living organisms. Or it may be 
more shrewdly pointed out that the living units of 
the body are adapted to chemical self-repair in 
particular conditions — e.g., an environment of other 
cells, which have been abolished by the mincing. 
But perhaps the most instructive answer is the 
experimental one, that, if a sponge be minced up 
and forced through a cloth filter, little drops of 
the debris, placed in appropriate environment, will 
at once proceed to build themselves up into new 
sponges. (5) It has to be admitted tliat the 
criterion of life to which we are giving prominence 
is relative. Some organisms can keep going for 
a hundred years, and some for only a hundred 
days, and some for only a hundred hours— the 
question rises as to the limit. Among the prim- 
eval organisms may there not have been some 
which lived only for a hundred seconds? How 
then would these hypothetical creatures have 
difl'ered from the pill of potassium which flares 
itself out, rushing over the surface of the b.asin of 
water on which it has been thrown ? The answer 
must be that an organism did not begin to be until 
alongside of disruptive i)rocesses associated with 
proteid substances there were also correlated con- 
structive processes, making for repair and self- 
maintenance. 

(2) Growth, reproduction, and development. — 
When an inorganic thing is aft'ected by an external 
influence inducing chemical change, the result is 
apt to be destructive. It changes into something 
else — the bar of iron into rust, and the barrel of 
gunpowder mostly into gas. The organism's re- 
sponses to stimuli — in most cases a more accurate 
phra-sing than 'reactions to external forces' — also 
involve disruptions, but these are not destructive. 
As we have seen, they are correlated with self- 
maintaining processes. Now we can conceive of 
an organism which balanced its accounts from hour 
to hour, but never had much margin. There are 
such organisms which live, to use a homely exjjres- 
sion, from hand to mouth. They are viable, going 
concerns, but they are trading on a verj- restricted 
basis of capital. It is plain that inganisms could 
not have gone very far on such danjjerous lines. 
They could not have sunived any crisis. There is 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



olivious advantage, therefore, in stormy energy in 
potential form, and this aceuranlation of reserves 
is fundamentally characteristic of organisms — 
especially of plants. As regards income and out- 
put of energy, an organism is far ami away more 
efficient tl-.an any engine that man has yet in- 
vented. The organism can make its income go 
farther. It allows a smaller proportion of energy 
to sink into unavailable form. It can turn poten- 
tial energy into useful form in a way that engines 
cannot do without enormous waste. More than 
this, however, there is a power of laying by what 
can be used later on. J. Joly (' The .Abundance of 
Life,' Sclent. Proc. Boij. Svc. Diiblin, vii. [1891] 
55-90) expressed the dynamic contrast long ago 
when he said that, whereas the transfer of energj' 
into an inanimate material system was attended 
with effects conducive to dissipation and retarda- 
tive to further transfer, the transfer of energy into 
an animate material system is attended with 
effects retardative of dissipation and conducive to 
further transfer. This seems to lead on to the 
criterion of growth. A surplus of income over 
expenditure is the primal condition of organic 
growth, and in this respect plants are pre-eminent, 
since they accunmlate such rich reserves (potential 
energy of chemical substances) and are so very 
economical in the getting of them. It must not be 
forgotten that it is the existence of the plant world 
that has made it possible for animals to dispense, 
relatively speaking, with intra-organismal stores. 
In the art. Growth it has been pointed out that 
the growth of living creatures, as contrasted with 
that of crystals, is at the expense of materials 
different from those which compose the organism ; 
that it implies active assimilation, not passive 
accretion ; and that it is, in quite a new sense, a 
regulated process. An organism does not grow 
like a snowball rolling down a hill. To sum up, 
the power of sustained metabolism — of balancing 
accounts with some margin to go on with — makes 
growth possible. 

But growth naturally leads on to multiplication 
or reproduction. As Haeckel clearly pointed out 
in his Generelle Morphologic (Berlin, 1866), repro- 
duction is discontinuous growth. It seems impos- 
sible to draw any hard-and-fast line between a 
fragmentation which separates oS' overgrowths and 
the more specialized modes of reproduction. We 
seem to be looking back to near the beginning of 
organic life when we see the breakage of a proto- 
plasmic mass which has grown too large to be a 
unity. It was long ago pointed out by Herbert 
Spencer and others that a living unit would tend 
to divide when the increase of volume outran — as 
it soon must if it continues — the increase of sur- 
face. In a sphere, for instance, the volume must 
increase as the cube, and the surface only as the 
square, of the radius. Thus, if it grew beyond a 
certain size, a spherical organism would get into 
serious functional difficulties, the volume of 
material to be kept alive having increased out 
of proportion to the surface by which it is kept 
alive. By division into two units, the dispropor- 
tion is counteracted. It has also been suggested 
that there is a certain normal proportion between 
the nucleus and the cell-substance or cytoplasm, 
which is disturbed if the cytoplasm increases be- 
yond a certain limit. A non-nucleated piece of 
cytoplasm cut off from a large protozoon can move 
about for a time, but it can neither feed nor grow. 
There are facts which indicate that the nucleus is 
a trophic and respiratory centre of the cell. It 
may be then that the division of a cell is a means 
of restoring the balance between volume and sur- 
face and between cytoplasm and nucleoplasm. 
The balance may also be restored by the emis- 
sion of processes from the surface of the cell. 



as in rliizopod protozoa (Amccbae, Foraminifera, 
Radiolaria, etc. ) ; or by a multiplication of nuclei, 
as often happens. But what has been suggested 
is a theory of the advantage of cell-division, not 
of the immediate physiological reason for its occur- 
rence. As to this, it has been mooted that a period 
of growth is followed automatically by a process 
of ' autolcatalysis,' but precise data are wanting. 
It cannot be gainsaid that the division of a cell 
remains one of the deep problems of biology. W. 
Bateson writes : 

' I know nothing which to a man well trained in scientific 
knowledge and method brings so vivid a realisation of our 
ignorance of the nature of hfe as the mystery of cell-division. 
. . . The greatest advance I can conceive in biology would be 
the discovery of the nature of the instability which leads to 
the continual division of the cell. When I look at a dividing 
cell I feel as an astronomer might do if he beheld the formation 
of a double star : that an original act of creation is taking place 
before me ' (Problems of Genetics, p. 39). 

In most cases a cell divides into two precisely 
similar daughter cells ; this is associated with an 
exceedingly complicated division of the nucleus, 
which secures that each of the two daughter cells 
gets a very accurate half of each part of the 
original nucleus. But the difficulty of the problem 
is increased by the fact that a cell maj' also divide 
into two dissimilar halves, one with and another 
without one or more of the constituent parts of the 
original nucleus. In some cases among higher 
animals and in many unicellular organisms the cell- 
division may be apparently less complicated than 
in the usual ' indirect ' method. The cell con- 
stricts in a dumb-bell-like fashion, and the nucleus 
likewise. In some unicellular organisms there is 
fragmentation of the unit. It is probable that the 
complicated methods of cell-division which are now 
the rule are the results of a long process of evolu- 
tion, and that the fundamental characteristic is 
simply division. In any case there is no doubt 
that the power of spontaneous division is one of 
the most distinctive features of living units. 

A consideration of effective activity led us to the 
idea of self-repair and the accumvilation of reserves ; 
this led us to the fact of growth ; and this to multi- 
j)lication, which takes place by division. It is 
characteristic of organisms to multiply, and, since 
what is separated off' is in many cases a fragment, 
a group of cells, or a single cell, we are brought 
face to face with development — the power that a 
part has of growing and differentiating until it has 
literally reproduced the whole. Development is 
the expression of the latent possibilities of an im- 
jierfect organism in an appropriate environment. 
It is the making visible of the intrinsic manifold- 
ness of some primordium — a bud, a fragment, a 
sample, or a germ-ceU — and, as it appears to us, it 
should be thought of as a continuation (under 
special circumstances and with a special result, 
namely, a new individual) of the restitution and 
regrowth which goes on always to make good the 
body's wear and tear. Every gradation between 
the two may be illustrated by the phenomena of 
regeneration, which is exhibited when a lost part is 
replaced. It is a noteworthy fact that a starfish, 
which practises autotoray or self-mutilation in the 
spasms of capture and finds safety in its refle-x 
device (for it often escapes and can regrow at 
leisure what it has lost), may also (e.g., Linckin 
guildingii) habitually multiply in this rather ex- 
pensive fashion. 

Bateson quotes Sir Michael Foster's definition : ' A living 
thing is a vortex of chemical and molecular change.' and points 
out that ' the living " \ortex " differs from all others in the fact 
that it can divide and tlirow off other " vortices," through 
which again matter continually swirls. We may perhaps lake 
the parallel a stage further. A simple vortex, like a smoke- 
ring, if projected in a suitable way will twist and fonn two 
rings. If each loop as it is formed could grow and then twist 
again to form more loops, we should have a model representing 
several of the essential features of living things ' (op. cit. p. 40). 

It has to be added, as we have seen, that the living 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



' vortex ' 18 the seat of complex anil specilic flienii- 
cal changes which are conelateil in such a way that 
the creature lasts. But more lias to be added still. 
(3) Effective behnvioiir, rc(jist ration of experi- 
ence, and variahiliiij. — The common idea in this 
grouping is 8elf-ex])iession. (n) Life is a kind of 
activity, reaching a climax in Iwhaviour, i.e. in an 
organically determined, correlatotl series of acts 
which make towards a delinite result. Behaviour 
concerns the organism as a whole, as in locomo- 
tion, or a considerable part of an organism, and 
dilFers from a reflex action in being a concatenation. 
It has difl'erent modes (tropisms, taxisms, instinc- 
tive behaviour, intelligent behaviour), but there 
is the common feature of coiTelation, of purposive- 
ness {not necessarily purposefulness), and, usually, 
of individuality. When an amoeba apjiears to go 
on the hunt, follows another, catches it, loses it, 
re-captures it, we must say either 'behaviour' or 
'magic' We need not suppose that the amoeba 
knows what it is about, but it is very difficult not 
to say that its awareness is accompanied by some 
analogue of 'will.' In the case of instinctive 
behaviour there is often an extraordinary adher- 
ence to routine, and this may defeat itself, but in 
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred what is done is 
effective, and the individuality probably finds ex- 
pression in ways that escape us. (b) The effective- 
ness which characterizes the behaviour of organisms 
(i.e. of those that show behaviour enougli to be 
studied) seems to depend on proliting by experi- 
ence in the individual lifetime, or on the results of 
successful ancestral experiments, or, usually, on 
both. It appears to us to be one of the insignia 
of life that the organism registers its experiments 
or the results of its experiences. We must here 
include under the term 'organism' the germ-cell, 
which is an organism implicit or in potentia, and 
may be said to make experiments in internal 
organization just as much as, in reality far more 
than, a protozoon which makes experiments in its 
skeletal architecture or in its behaviour. As 
AV. K. Clirtbrd said, 

' It is the peculiarity of living things not merely that they 
change under the influence of surrounding circumstances, but 
that any change which takes place in them is not lost, but 
retained, and as it were built into the organism to serve as the 
foundation for future actiana' (Lecturfs and Essays, London, 
1879. i. 83). 
As Bergson puts it, 

* Its past, in its entirety, is prolonged into its present, and 
abides there, actual and acting ' {Creative Erotutimi, p. 16). 
As Jennings says, from the physiological point of 
view, in discussing the behaviour of the starfish, 

' The precise way each part shall act under the influence of 
the stimulus must be determined by the past history of that 
part ; by the stimuli that have acted upon it, hy the reactions 
which it has given, by the results which these reactions have 
produced (as well as by the present relations of this part to 
other parts, and by the immediate effects of its present action). 
. . . We know as solidly as we know anything in phj'siology 
that the history of an organism does modify it and its actions— 
in ways not yet thoroughly understood, doubtless, yet none the 
less real ' (' Beburior of tiie .Starfish.' (fnioersity of California 
I'ubliealions in Zoology, iv. [1907] 177). 

(c) The organism's variability or power of produc- 
ing some distinctively new character must, in the 
present state of science, be taken as ' given.' The 
only capacity like it that we know of is our own 
po>yer of mental experiment— the secret of the 
artist, the musician, the thinker, or the inventor. 
It may be noted that 'modifications' wrought on 
the body by some peculiarity of nurture, environ- 
ment, or habit are to be ULstinguished from 
germinal variations. They are important indi- 
vidually, but they are not known to afl'ect the 
progeny in any representative fashion. We may 
also distinguish those negative variations which 
are due to the loss of an ancestral character, like 
horns or a tail, for there are various opportunities 
in the history of the germ-cell.-< for the dropping 
out of an hereditary item. Similarly, in regard to 



those variations which are i)lainly interpretable as 
new ariangemontsof previously expressed ancestral 
characters, there is no theoretical (iifficulty. What 
is batUiiig, however, is the origin of something 
definitely novel, especially when there is rea.son 
to believe that it originates bru.squely. We can 
hardly do more at present than a.ssume that the 
organism is essentially creative. .Just as the intact 
organism, from amceba to elephant, tries experi- 
ments, so the germ-cell, which is no ordinary cell 
but an implicit organism, a condensed individuality, 
may perhaps make experiments in self-expression, 
which we call variations or mutations. This com- 
pletes our statement of the general characteristics 
of organisms. 

2. Death. — It is convenient to distinguish, from 
a biological point of view, three ditierent kinds of 
death. (1) There is violent death, when some 
external :infli.ence shatters, or dissolves, or be- 
numbs the organization. A wound, a sudden 
change of temperature, or being swallowed by 
another organism may involve tlie irrecoverable 
cessation of bodily life. For many animals in 
open nature the end seems to be always violent. 
(■2) There is microbic death, when some intruding 
micro-organism, establishing itself in the body, 
multiplies exceedingly and produces fatal effects. 
The intruders cause lesions, or destroy important 
elements, or produce fatal toxins, and so on. In 
wild nature there is little microbic death except 
when man efl'ects disarrangements in distribution, 
so that organisms are exposed to the attack of 
new microbes. (3) There is natural death, which 
results from some breakdown in the correlation of 
vital processes. Hard-worked organs, such as the 
heart, may suffer from the imperfect recuperation 
of their wear and tear. The highly specialized 
cells of the nervous system tend to lose early in 
life their power of dividing and therefore of re- 
placement ; thus in higher animals there is not 
after birth any increase in the number of nerve- 
cells. In various ways there arises within the 
body an accumulation of physiological arrears 
which eventually implies physiological insolvency. 
Especially does the process of reproduction strain 
the resources of the organism. 

In spite of criticisms, Weismann's doctrine of the 
immortality of the protozoa remains acceptable. 
Not that these unicellular organisms live any 
charmed life ; they are continually being killed 
by accidents, vicissitudes, and enemies j some of 
them are occasionally consumed by microbes ; but 
it seems to be the case that in their normal condi- 
tions (when waste-products do not accumulate in 
the surrounding medium and when there is oppor- 
tunity for conjugation) many of them at least are 
not subject to natural death in the same degree as 
higher animals are. Some of them, indeed, may 
be exempt from natural death altogether. The 
reasons for this immunity are to be found in the 
relative simplicity of structure, for unicellular 
organisms can continuously and completely make 
good their wear and tear, and in the relatively 
sim]ile modes of multiplication, which do not 
involve the nemesis so frequent in higher organ- 
isms. Though it is not improbable that very 
simple multicellular organisms, such as the fresh- 
water hydra, may enjoy some measure of immunity 
from natural death, there is doubtless general truth 
in the epigram that, in the course of evolution, 
natural death was the price paid for a body. The 
relative immunity of unicellular organisms strongly 
suggests that natural death is not to be regarded 
simply as an intrinsic necessity — the fate of all 
life. 

Life was described by Bichfit as ' the sura of the 
functions which resist death,' but this is a one- 
sided emphasis. For, while it is characteristic of 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



organisms that they are continually at work in 
securing the persistence of their specific organiza- 
tion, it is equally characteristic tliat they spend 
themselves in securing the continuance of their 
kind. Instead of seeking to avoid death, to speak 
metaphorically, they often rather invite it, sacri- 
ficing themselves in producing and providing for 
the next generation. Their reproductive activities 
put an end to their self-preservation. Natural 
death is not to be thought of as like the running 
down of a clock. It is more than an individual 
physiological problem ; it is adjusted in reference 
to the welfare of the species. As has been noted 
in art. Age, there is good reason for regarding the 
occurrence of death at a particular time as adaptive. 
Constitutions which lose their correlation at the 
end of a year have been selected in certain condi- 
tions ; constitutions which lose their correlation at 
the end of ten years have been selected in others. 
It is certain, as Weismann says, that ' worn-out 
individuals are not only valueless to the species, but 
they are even harmful' {Essat/s upon Heredity, etc. 
i. 24). As Goethe put it, ' Death is Nature's expert 
contrivance to get plenty of life' (' Aphorisms on 
Nature,' tr. Huxley, in Nature, i. [1869] 1). 

3. Organism and mechanism. — The task of me- 
chanics, as G. Kirchhoir said, is ' to describe com- 
pletely and in the simplest manner the motions 
which take place in nature ' ( Vorlesungen iiber 
mathematische Physik, Leipzig, 1876, i. 1). A me- 
chanical description is satisfactoiy as such when 
it enables us to formulate a process as a continu- 
ous series of necessarily concatenated mechanical 
operations like those of an automatic machine or 
of a volcano. We shall use the term ' mechanical ' 
throughout as meaning a matter-and-motion de- 
scription, and as equivalent to physico-chemical, 
for chemical and physical descriptions are (ideally 
at least) reducible to mechanical terms. The 
question before us is how far mechanical descrip- 
tion can be usefillly employed in the study of 
organisms. The question is twofold: (1) how far 
we can describe characteristically vital events in 
terms of those concepts and formulie which cer- 
tainly serve us well when we study the tides or 
eclipses, the fashioning of a dewdrop, or the 
making of a star ; and (2) how far a mechanical 
description answers the distinctly biological ques- 
tions as to the correlation of an organism's activi- 
ties, its behaviour, its growth and reproduction, 
its development and evolution. 

There is no doubt that chemical and physical 
laws apply to living creatures — to what has been 
called their inorganic aspect. ChemicaUy re- 
garded, living involves a complex of reactions in or 
associated with the material which we call ' proto- 
plasm,' and some of these can be reproduced apart 
from the organism altogether. Some vital pro- 
cesses illustrate J. H. van't Hoff's rule of chemical 
reactions, for they increase in rapidity as the 
temperature increases. This may serve as an 
instance of the solidarity of the organism's chemi- 
cal processes with those that occur in things in 
general, but it must be carefully noticed that we 
cannot assert that the movements of molecules in 
a living protoplasmic system are the same as those 
in an inorganic system. In his posthiunously 
published Prinzipien der Mechanik (Leipzig, 1894) 
H. Hertz emphasized the need of caution. 

' It is certainly a justified caution with which we confine the 
realm of mechanics expressly to inanimate nature and leave the 
question open how far its jaws can be e.ttended beyond. In 
truth, the matter stands thus, that we can neither maintain 
that the internal phenomena of animated beinirs obey the same 
laws nor that they follow other laws ' (quoted by J. T. Merz, 
Bistorii nf European Thowjht, iii. [Edinburgh and London, 
1912) 684). 

It is plain that many physical processes occur 
in the body whitli are comparable to those observ- 



able in the inorganic domain — processes of diffu- 
sion, capillarity, surface-tension, and so on. And, 
just as the living body illustrates conservation of 
matter, so is it with the conservation of energy. 
One mode may change into another mode, but no 
energy ceases or is lost in the transformation. 
Careful experiments with a calorimeter show that 
it is possible to square accounts of the energy- 
income and energy-expenditure of an organism, 
the slight discrepancy that is sometimes observed 
being reasonably explained as due to the inevitable 
imperfections of instruments and observations. It 
should be noticed, however, that, according to 
some physicists, the second Law of Thermo- 
dynamics does not apply to living creatures. While 
no fact securely established in regard to organisms 
has been shown to be inconsistent with the gener- 
alizations of chemistry and physics, and whUe 
many results of importance, both theoretically and 
practically, have rewarded the application of 
chemico-physical methods to living creatures, we 
believe it to be quite inaccurate to say that 
mechanical concepts and formulae suffice for more 
than a partial and abstract description of the life 
of organisms. We shall proceed to test this. 

(n) Everyday functions. — As things stand at 
present, there is not forthcoming any physico- 
chemical description of any total vital operation, 
even of everyday functions such as the interchange 
of gases in tne lungs, the passage of digested food 
from the alimentary canal into the blood-vessels, 
or the filtering processes that go on in the kidneys. 
The co-ordination involved in the discharge of a 
function and the correlation of one function with 
another are characteristic physiological facts which 
are not made clearer when the chemistry or physics 
of an artificially isolated comer is worked out. 

Even in such a familiar occurrence as a response to a stimulus 
'there is in reality no experimental evidence whatsoever that 
the process can be understood as one of physical and chemical 
causation. ... In the case of physiological stimulus and re- 
sponse no real quantitative relation can be traced between the 
supposed physical or chemical cause, and its effect. When we 
attempt to trace a connection we are lost in an indefinite maze 
of complex conditions, out of which the response emerges ' (J. S. 
Haldane, Mechanism, LiJ'e, and Personality, p. 34). 

A very familiar fact is that the same stimulus 
applied to two apparently similar animals, or to 
the same animal at dift'erent times, evokes differ- 
ent answers. We can indeed give reasons for this, 
but the reasons are not mechanical I'easons. 

(6) Be/uiviour. — When we think of a collie dog 
controlling a flock of sheep according to instruc- 
tions, or of a swallow returning from its winter in 
the South to the place of its birth, or of the spider 
spinning a typical web without experience or 
model, or of the larval freshwater mussels fasten- 
ing themselves to minnows, or of the larval liver- 
fluke responding to the contact of the water-snail 
by which alone it can successfully continue its life, 
or of the amceba capturing its prej', losing it, 
following it, re-capturing it, and so on, we are 
face to face with animal behaviour which tran- 
scends mechanical description. The behaviour is 
made up of a succession of acts which are corre- 
lated in a particular sequence. This is true even 
in instances where we know nothing of the associ- 
ated mentality. It goes without saying that the 
behaviour implies chemical and physical events, 
but the bond of union eludes the chemist and 
physicist. There are elements of spontaneity, 
plasticity, adaptiveness, and purposiveness that 
are foreign to mechanical reasoning. We can 
make nothing of behaviour without new concepts, 
notably that of the organism as an historical being 
that trades with time. 

(() Development. — The condensation of the in- 
heritance into microscopic germ-cells, the combina- 
tion of two inheritances in fertilization, the subse- 
quent division of the inheritance involved in the 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



sesniientation of the ovum, tlie process of differ- 
entiation wherein from the apparently simple the 
obviously complex emerges, the embryo's power of 
ri^htinj; itself when the buildinj,' materials of its 
edifice are artificially disarranfjed, the waj' in 
which ditl'erent parts are correlated and, as it were, 
conspire together towards some future result — 
these and many other facts lead towards a convinc- 
ing im]nession that development far transcends 
mechanism. 

In his Science and Philosophy of the Organism 
(1 90S), Driesch has with unexampled thoroughness 
and subtlety tested the possibilities of mechanical 
description with particular reference to the facts 
of development, and reached a conclusion of the 
first importance. 

* No kind of causality based upon the constellations of singrle 
physical and chemical acta can account for organic individual 
development ; Ihie development is not to be explained by any 
hj-pothesis about configuration of physical and chemical at:ents. 
. . . Life, at least morphogenesis. i3 not a specialised arrange- 
ment of inorjranic events ; biolo'^y, therefore, is not applied 
physics and chemistry ; life is something apart, and biology is 
an independent science' (i. \ity 

But, if the description of development is beyond 
mechanics, what, it may be asked, is the role of 
the young and vigorous science of ' developmental 
mechanics' (EntwkMnnijsmechanik) so well repre- 
sented by the work of Koux ? It may be answered 
that the developing embij-o, as a material system, 
does of course exhibit chemical and physical pro- 
ce.sses which may be analyzed apart and treated 
singly ; that development shows a continuous 
action and reaction between an implicit organism 
and the environing conditions ; and that develop- 
mental mechanics so-called is in great part con- 
cerned with discovering the correlation between 
steps in development and their appropriate external 
stimulation and nurture. But a further answer is 
this, that the term ' mechanical ' or ' mechanistic ' 
is often, unfortunately, applied to a systematic or 
connected description which displays a aeries of 
events in causal coherence without any interven- 
tion of mentality. Given certain properties of 
organisms in general and of nerve-cells in particu- 
lar, we may give a more or less connected and 
complete account of a reflex action without imply- 
in" any psj'chical agency. But this should not be 
called a mechanical or mechanistic description ; it 
is simply what it pretends to be, a physiological or 
biological description, and it implies various non- 
mechanical concepts. Similarly, given the organ- 
ism's power of registration and of persistently re- 
producing its specific organization, given the cell's 
mysterious power of dividing — of dividing now in- 
to similar and again into dissimilar halves — given 
the power of utilizing nurtural stimuli to educe 
the inherent manifol<lnes.s, and so on, we can begin 
to discover the connectedness of the successive 
stages in development. But this should not be 
called mechanical description. 

(rf) Evolution. — The adequacy of mechanical 
description may also be tested in reference to 
evolution. There is apt to be fallacy in speaking 
of organic evolution as a continuation of 'evolu- 
tion' in the inorganic domain. For it is more 
accurate, probably, to speak of the development 
than of the evolution of the solar sj-stem, since it 
is the differentiation of one mass into explicit 
manifoldness. The originative nebula, if such it 
was, is comparable to a great world-egg which 
developed into several embryos, as eggs sometimes 
do, but there wa-s no struggle between the various 
planets, or between them and their environmental 
limitations, no sifting process which eliminated 
some and left others surviving. There war.; no 
alternatives, no trial and error methods. There 
was nothing comparable to that staking of indi- 
vidual lives and losing of them which is so char- 



acteristic of that sublime adventure which we call 
organic evolution. The theory of organic evolu- 
tion starts with the mysterj- of variability, which 
is more like experimenting in self-expression than 
anything in the inorganic world, thougli it is not 
without its analogies even there. In natural selec- 
tion the organism is often anything but a passive 
pawn. It does not simply .submit to the appar- 
ently inevitable. It often evades its fate l>y a 
change of habit or of environment ; it compromises, 
it experiments, it is full of device and endeavour. 
It not onlj' adapts itself to its environment, it 
adapts its environment. The evolving organism 
is an historical being, a genuine agent which trades 
with its talents. Such mechanical description as 
is possible leaves the essential features uudescribed. 

4. The uniqueness of life. — The negative con- 
clusion has been arrived at that mechanical or 
physico-i'hemiial concepts do not suffice for answer- 
ing biological questions. This is because organisms 
show a certain apartness or uniqueness, the various 
theories of which may be roughly designated vital- 
istic. Before considering these, however, we must 
refer, practically rather than philosophically, to 
three preliminary points, (a) It is maintained by 
some that mechanical formulation, legitimate and 
useful for certain purposes, aiqiarently adequate 
for things as they are in certain cases, such as the 
tides, is not the ideal formulation even within the 
domain of tlie not-living. But, if it is not adequate 
there, it will be still less adequate within the 
realm of organisms. Practically, however, it may 
be answered that this is not a biologist's business. 
All will admit that mechanical formuhv work verj- 
usefully within the inorganic domain ; but the 
biologist finds that they do not help him to answer 
his particular questions. He therefore seeks for 
formulae of his own. {b) It is often pointed out 
that, although we cannot at present translate vital 
happenings, such as growth and division, into 
terms of any known mechanics, we may be able to 
do so in the course of time. It may be, for instance, 
that the concepts of chemistry and physics will 
undergo profound modification in centuries to 
come, and no one can say that they have not 
changed in the past. The i>ractical answer to this 
question is that we can speak only of the chemistry 
and physics that we know, (c) It is held by some 
that it is consciousness, or mind, that gives organ- 
isms their apartness or uniqueness. But, without 
entering into a discussion of this, we may again 
give a practical answer, that the problem ' vitalism 
or mechanism ' is the same for plants as for animals, 
and that we do not know anything about the mind 
or consciousness of plants. 

There are three well-known positions in regard 
to the apartness of living creatures, which may be 
roughly described as the three grades of vitalism. 
(I) The first finds tiie differentia of organisms in 
the greater complexity in the configurations of 
elementary particles ; protoplasmic metabolism is 
extremely intricate. New concepts are not re- 
quired, but the activities of organisms cannot I>e 
predicted from a formulation of what occurs in the 
inorganic domain. Biology may be allowed a 
laboratory of its own, but it should be called bio- 
chemical. The main objection to this view is 
simply a matter of fact— that no headway has been 
made in giving mechanical answers to character- 
istically biological questions. (2) The second view- 
is that there is a peculiar kind of physical energy 
operative in living creatures and nowhere else. 
Organisms have a monopoly of some power in the 
same series as, say, electricity. This theory is a 
lineal descendant of one form of the old theory of 
' vital force,' but it has been brought up to date. 
It has been suggested that there may be a specific 
intra-organismal form of energy evolved by and 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



peculiar to the complex nature of tlie molecule of 
protoplasm or of protoplasms, which exhibits an 
unceasing alternation of unipolar and bipolar 
states, the latter resultinfr in cell-division. 

' The attraction and repulsion observed between cell and cell 
are certain of the manifestations of this supposed form of 
energy — but probably not by any means all ; just as attraction 
and repulsion are manifestations of electrical energy under 
certain conditions, but are not by any means the only mani- 
festations. In ner\'e impulses we may, for instance, really be 
experiencing manifestations in another way of the same form of 
energy w-hich under other conditions produces the attractions 
and repulsions and the fignires of strain in the dividing cells, 
and the .actual cell-division. . . . By this supposed form of 
energy, I do not mean a mysterious metaphysical influence, but 
a form of energy comparable to grravity, electricity, or maa^net- 
ism — in some respects similar to tliese but in other respects 
differing from each, and a form which could be investigated by 
the ordinary methods of mensuration and computation avail- 
able to the mathematician' (Assheton, Archiv /iir Entwick- 
In luj^nechanik , xxix. 68 f.). 

(3) The third view is thoroughgoing vitalism, 
best represented by the work of Driesch. Its 
postulate is a non-pereeptual vital agency or ente- 
leehy, which does not occur in not -living things, but 
is associated ^ith organisms, where it operates in 
certain cases, directing the chemico-physieal pro- 
cesses so that their results are different from what 
they would have been apart from its intervention. 
The postulated entelechy is not the outcome of 
more complex physical conditions, ' not a new 
elemental consequence of some constellation ' ; it 
intervenes only at certain steps, introducing an 
occasional indeterminism ; it is supposed to be a 
genuine agent, counting for something, ' at work,' 
as Driesch says. On this view, there is a deep- 
lying distinction — a difl'erence in principle — be- 
tween the flight of a bird and the movement of a 
comet, and biology is by hypothesis autonomous. 
We cannot enter into a discussion of Driesch's 
ingenious and consistently-worked-out theory of en- 
telechy, or of the three proofs which he gives of the 
autonomy of life. The first is based on a study of 
morphogenesis, i.e. of the way in which an organ- 
ism realizes in development its specific form and 
structure ; the second is based on a study of in- 
heritance ; the third is based on a study of the 
movements of organisms. That they show the 
impossibility of ' a machine-theory of life' will be 
admitted by many who are not disposed to postu- 
late an organismal entity. According to Driesch, 
entelechy is 'an autonomous agent,' 'of a non- 
spatial nature,' without a .seat or localization. It 
is immaterial and it is not energy ; it is not in- 
consistent in its agency with the laws of energj- ; 
its function is to suspend and to set free, in a 
regulatory manner, pre-existing faculties of in- 
organic interaction. 

•There is something in the organism's behaWour — in the 
widest sense of the word— which is opposed to an inorganic 
resolution of the same, and which shows that the living organ- 
ism is more than a sum or an aggregate of its parts. . . . This 
something we call entelechy ' {op. cit. ii. 33S). 

In illustration of the criticisms of Driesch's 
position, reference may be made to three points, 
(a) It is argued that, if entelechy is eft'ective, it 
implies a breach in the fundamental law of the 
conservation of energy. But it is like begging 
the question to press this difficulty, and Poynting 
has suggested, in discussing tlie analogous case of 
the operation of our will, that a merely deflecting 
force does no work, though it changes configura- 
tion. The will may introduce a constraint which 
guides molecules to glide past one another instead 
of clashing — a slight change of spin wliich may be 
compensated for by a slight opposite spin put on 
the rest of the body. 

' The will may act as a guiding power changing the direction 
of motion of the atoms and molecules in the brain, and we can 
imagine such a guiding power without having to modify our 
ideas of the constancy of matter or the constancy of motion, or 
even the constancy of energy ' (HJ i. 745). 

The same may apply to the action of entelechy, 
and attention must be directed to the care that 



Driesch has taken to state his doctrine so that it 
does not violate the principle of the conservation 
of energy. He supposes entelechy to suspend re- 
actions which are possible ' with such compounds 
as are present, and which would happen without 
entelechy. And entelechy may regulate this sus- 
pending of reactions now in one direction and now 
in another, suspending and permitting possible 
becoming whenever required for its purposes ' {op. 
cit. ii. ISO). Entelechy stops a movement, and 
the energy of the latter becomes potential. Later 
on the movement may continue, the potential 
energy being reconverted into kinetic. Thus no 
violence is done to the principle. 

(b) A recurrent argument in Driesch's exposition 
of his doctrine of vitalism is that no machme-like 
arrangement can possibly account for the facts 
of development, inheritance, or behaviour. A 
machine is defined as 'a given specific combina- 
tion of specific chemical and physical agents,' and 
Driesch seeks to reduce to absurdity the theory 
that any machine could do what is required. His 
argument is verj' convincing, and of course we 
can argue only about machines that we know and 
imaginative combinations or improvements of 
these, but it seems open to the critic to reply that 
no one knows all possible machines, and to urge 
that proving the untenability of a machine-theory 
does not prove the necessity of postulating an 
entelechy. Concerning the ingenious machines 
invented by man, it may not be needless to remind 
ourselves that their introduction into the present 
argument is apt to be fallacious. For they, like 
the wonderful achievements of the synthetic 
chemists, are the fruits of intelligence, not fair 
samples of the inorganic world. An ingenious 
machine, like a type-writing or a calculating 
machine, is an elaborated tool, an extended hand, 
and has inside of it, so to speak, a human thought. 
It is because of these qualities that it is a little 
like an organism. Practically, however, most of 
those who have a near acquaintance with living 
creatures will agree with Driesch that their be- 
haviour is not very like the working of madiines. 
For certain purposes it is useful to think of the 
organism as an engine, but we must recognize 
that it is a self-stoking, self-repairing, self-pre- 
serving, self-adjusting, self-increasing, self-repro- 
ducing engine. 

(c) Another objection is stated by J. S. Haldane : 
'In order to "guide" effectually the excessively complex 

physical and chemical phenomena occurring in living material, 
and at many different parts of a complex organism, the vital 
principle would apparently require to possess a superhuman 
knowledge of these processes. Yet the vital principle is 
assumed to act unconsciously. The very nature of the vital- 
istic assumption is thus totally unintelligible ' (op. cit. p. 23). 

Similarly Jennings urges the difliculty of under- 
standing how entelechy gets its power of co- 
ordinating and individualizing : 

'To accept the Entelechy unanalysed and unexplained is 
merely to give up the problem as insoluble ' ; and, if we try to 
work out a development of entelechies, * then surely we are 
merely transferring our problem from the complex' that we 
actually find in time and space to a sort of manufactured copy 
of this problem, presenting the same difficulties, with the 
additional one that it is impalpable and cannot be directly 
dealt with at all. The entelechy simply adds to oar difficulties ' 
(' Behavior of the Starfish,' ioc. cit. p. ISO). 

Jennings also points out that, according to 
Driesch, two li\'ing systems absolutely identical 
in every physico-cliemical respect may liehave 
differently under absolutely identical conditions, 
this depending upon whether, and how, the ente- 
lechy takes part in the process. This leads to a 
very serious admission of experimental indeter- 
minism, which for some minds is enough to con- 
demn the theory. It should be stated that Driesch 
has replied vigorously to the criticisms brought 
against his position, and that he never for a 
moment pretended that we could understand 



8 



LIFE AND DEATH (Biological) 



'even in the slightest degree' how entelechy is 
able to discharge its function as regulator and 
guide. 

Differing from Driesch's position, according to 
which entelechy is not identical with the psychical, 
is the animism so ably expounded by McDougall 
in his Bodtj and MinU (1911). The panpsychism 
of Paulsen and the very distinctive position of 
Bergson should also be considered. 

.\ccordiDg to McDoujjall, 'not only conscious thinking, but 
also morphogenesis, heredity, and evolution are psycho-physical 
processes. All alike are conditioned and governed by psychical 
dispositions that have been built up in the course ol "the e.xperi- 
ence of the race ' (p. S7»). 

5. Provisional conclusion. — Looking backwards, 
we cannot admit that the study of animal be- 
haviotir, for instance, is no more than the study of 
very subtle problems in chemistry and physics ; 
we do not find evidence to justify the view that 
organisms exhibit a new kind of physical energy 
in a line with electricity and the like ; and we do 
not share the opinion of many recognized author- 
ities that the facts cannot be met except by a 
theory of entelechy. What then is our position ? 
It is that of ' descriptive ' or ' methodological ' 
vitalism. 

Making no pronouncement whatsoever in regard 
to the essence of the difference between organisms 
and things in general, we hold to what we believe 
to be a fact, that mechanical formulte do not be- 
gin to answer the distinctively biological questions. 
Bio-chemistry and bio-physics added together do 
not give us one biological answer. We need new 
concepts, such as that of the organism as an historic 
being, a genuine agent, a concrete individuality, 
which has traded with time and has enregistered 
within itself past experiences and experiments, 
and which has its conative bow ever bent towards 
the future. We need new concepts because there 
are new facts to describe, which we cannot analyze 
away into simpler processes. In the present state 
of knowledge we cannot tell in what the newness 
or apartness essentially consists, and this appears 
to us to be a quite legitimate, though provisional, 
stopping-place, without pressing on to any positive 
vitalistic theory, which must be, from the nature 
of the ease, metaphysical. 

If we go bej'on<l science in the endeavour to 
form some connected reconstruction, we should 
say that those constellations of 'matter' and 
' energy ' called organisms afford opportunity for 
the expression of aspects of reality which are not 
patent in the inorganic domain. We must not 
think of • matter ' and ' energy ' as the exclusive 
stones and mortar of the ever-growing cosmic 
edifice ; they are abstract concepts, defined by 
certain methods, which serve well in the descrip- 
tion of the physical universe. They certainly re- 
present reality, for we safely make prophecies and 
risk our lives on the strength of tliis. But it is 
quite another thing to say that they are exhaustive. 
An aspect of reality which may safely be neglected 
in astronomy and navigation, in chemistry and 
engineering, becomes patent in the realm of organ- 
isms, and we call it ' life.' It is neither a product 
of 'matter' and 'energy' nor an outcome of the 
increasing complexity of constellations ; it is an 
expression of the reality of which atoms and their 
movements are al.so but conceptual aspects. Ik 
may be regarded as that aspect of reality which is 
clearly manifested only in protoplasmic systems — 
and in normal conditions in all of them. May it 
not be that the qualities which lender the postu- 
lation of entelechy or vital impetus necessary to 
some minds have been in kind present throughout 
the history of the Nature that we know? We say 
' in kind,' since it is plain that we share in a move- 
ment which is not the unrolling of something 
originally given, but a creative evolution in which 



time counts. Instead of supposing the inter\eu- 
tion of a non-material agency which controls 
chemical and physical processes in organisms, we 
suppose that a new aspect of reality is revealed in 
organisms — that capacity for correlation, persist- 
ence, and individuality, for growing, multiplying, 
and developing, for behaviour, experience, and 
experiment, which we call ' life,' which can nowise 
be explained in terms of anything simpler than 
itself. 

To the biologist the actualities are organisms 
and their doings, and life is a generalized concept 
denoting their peculiar quality. What life in 
essence or principle is he does not know. Taking 
life in the abstract, therefore, as ' given,' we have 
had to be content in this article with stating the 
general characteristics of living creatures. It is 
plain, however, that analytical and formal discus- 
sion falls far short of giving any adequate idea of 
life in its concrete fullness. For that requires a 
synthesis, and that, again, is impossible without 
Kyinpathy. We must use our everyday experi- 
ence of livingness in ourselves and in other organ- 
isms, not for knowledge alone, but as a source of 
sympathy wherewith to enliven the larger data 
of biology ; and we need not be afraid of exag- 
gerating the wonder of life. Sympathetically and 
imaginatively, therefore, as well as with precision, 
we must seek to envisage the variety of life — 
hundreds of thousands of distinct individualities 
or species ; the abundance of life — like a river al- 
ways tending to overflow its banks ; the diffusion 
of life — exploring and exploiting every corner of 
land and sea ; the insurgence of life — self-asser- 
tive, persistent, defiant, continually achieving the 
apparently impossible ; the cyclical development 
of life — ever passing from birth, through love, to 
death ; the intricacy of life — every cell a micro- 
cosm ; the subtlety of life — every drop of blood an 
index of idiosyncrasies ; the inter-relatedness of 
life — with myriad threads woven into a patterned 
web ; the drama of life — plot within plot, age 
after age, with every conceivable illustration of 
the twin motives of hunger and love ; the flux of 
life — even under our short-lived eyes ; the pro- 
gress of life — slowly creeping upwards through 
unthinkable time, expressing itself in ever nobler 
forms ; the beauty of life— every finished organ- 
ism an artistic harmony ; the morality of life — 
spending itself to the death for other than indi- 
vidual ends ; the mentality of life — sometimes 
quietly dreaming, sometimes sleep-walking, some- 
times wide awake ; and the victory of life — sub- 
duing material things to its will ana in its highest 
reaches controlling itself towards an increasing 
purpose. 

See, further, Abiogenesis, Age, Biology, 
Development, Growth, Heredity. 

LlTERATrRE. — R. Assheton, Archiv /iir EntwiMungs- 
mechanik, xxix. [1910] 46-78; W. Bateson, PnMeiM of 
Gtnetics, London 1918 ; H. Bergson, Creative Evolutimi, Eng. 
tr., do. 1911 ; G. Bunge, Physiological and Pathological 
CUemistry, Eng. tr,. London, 1890 (esp. Lect. i. 'Vitalism and 
.Mechanism'); O. Biitschli, Mechanismus und Vitalitnnus, 
Leipzig, 1!K}1 ; F. Czapek, Chemical Phenomena in Lijt^ 
London and New York, 1911 ; A. Dastre, La Vit et la nwrt, 
Paris, 1903 ; H. Driesch, The Science aJtd Philosophy of the 
Organism, 2 vols., London, 1908, The Problem of Individuality, 
do. 1914; J. S. Haldane, Mechanism, Life, a7\d Personality, 
do. 1913 ; M. M. Hartog, Problems of Life and Reproduction, 
do. 1913; L. T. Hobhouse, Development and Purpose, do. 
1913 ; J. W. Jenkinson, Experimental Embnfi>h>gy, 0.vford, 
1909(with odisoussion of vitalism); H. S. Jennings, 'Doctrines 
held as Vitali.'im,' in American Naturalist, xlvii, (1913) 386-417 ; 
J. Johnstone, The Philosophy of Biology, Cambridge, 1914 ; 
Oliver Lodge, Life and Matter*, London, 1900; J. Loeb, 
The Mechanistic Concei'tion of Life, Chicago. 1912 ; W. Mc- 
Dougall, Hody and Mmd, London, 1911 ; J. T. Men, A His- 
tory of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century, esp. vol. 
ii., Edinburgh and London, 1902 ; C. S. Minot, The Problem of 
Age, (irowlh, and Dea'.h, London, 1908 ; B. Moore, The Origin 
and Nature of Life, do. 1913 ; C. Lloyd Morgan, The Inter- 
pretation of Nature, P.ristol, 190.1, Instinct and Ezperienct, 



LIFE AND DEATH (Primitive) 



9 



Loudon, 1912 ; T. Percy Nunn, ' Animism and the Doctrine of 
Energy' in I'roc. Aristotelian Society, 1911-12; Karl Pearson, 
Crratninar of Science, revised ed., London, 1911 ; J. H. Poynting^, 
• Plij sical Law and Life ' in HJ i. [1903] 72S-746 ; Hans Przibram, 
ExperimenteUe Zootogie, pt. iv. ' Vitalit.Lt,' Leipzig and Vienna, 
1913 ; E. Radl, Geschichte der biologischen Tneoinen, Leipzig, 
1905 ; W. Roux, Gt'itaminelte Abhandlungen iiber Entwicke- 
luwmnechanik der Onjanismen, 2 vols., Leipzig, 1895 ; E. S. 
Russell, • Vitalism ' inScientia, ix. P911] 329-346 ; E. A. Schafer, 
Presidential Address British Association, Dundee, 1912 ; 
Herbert Spencer, Principles of Biologp, London, 1866, newed., 
vol. i., 1S'J8 : D'Arcy W. Thompson, * Magnalia Natures ; or. 
The Greater I'roUeins of Biology,' Pres. Address Section D, 
Brit. Association, Portsmouth, 1911; J. Arthur Thomson, 
Introduction to Science, London, 1912, The Wonder of Life, do. 
1914 ; M. Verworn, General Physiotogi/, Eng. tr., do. 1899 ; 
J. Ward, Naturalisin and Agnosticisin^, do. 1906 ; A. Weis- 
mann, Essays upon Heredity and Kindred Biological Problems^, 
2 vols., Oxford, 1S91-92, esp. Essay iii. on 'Life and Death.' 

J. Arthur Thomson. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Primitive).— In primi- 
tive thought, so far as we can analyze it, life and 
death are not the balanced opposites which civil- 
ized contemplation has made them. To early 
man life is the normal condition, death an ab- 
normal catastrophe, unnatural, miraculous, and 
terrible. An exception is to be made Avhen a man 
kills his quarry or his foe ; here the satisfaction 
of an end achieved inhibits the feelings aroused by 
the non-violent death of a tribesman. According 
to Australian philosophy, men would live on in- 
definitely, except for the result of actual physical 
violence or of sorcerj', a rehned form of it.' This 
is the usual view of the savage, though it is hardly 
a reasoned opinion. The savage, like the major- 
ity of civilized men, lives in the present ; this 
fact involves a certain inertia of thought as to the 
contrast between life and death, and it is true of 
both stages of culture that ' the fear of death is as 
nothing.'^ The primitive mind, when it exercised 
itself on the subject of life, was concerned with 
the acquisition of physical strength and moral in- 
fluence rather than with the problem of the nature 
of vitality ; but the constant rage and terror which 
characterized its attitude towards death involved 
a permanent concern with the supposed causes of 
an event which, though inevitable, remained a 
mystery and a violation of natur.al law. 

I. The nature of life. — The distinction between 
life and soul is in some cases confused, and in 
otiiers not drawn. Again, the latter concept 
includes several ideas. We have, however, to deal 
with a ' life-principle ' whenever there is a clear 
connexion between a concept and facts of life. 
For the earliest stage of thought the chief datum 
is the difference observed between the dead body 
and the living and moving body. It is inferred 
that something has departed from the body when 
dead ; the something is a concrete object or sub- 
stance, ideated vaguely at first, later with some 
precision, as a special entity, or identified with one 
or other part of the living organism. 

Certain Australians speak of 'something,' a 
yowee, not described, which never leaves the body 
of the living man ; it grows as he grows, and 
decays as he decays.^ This illustrates well the 
primary stage. Put in another form, the inference 
is that the ' soul ' does not finally leave the body 
until decomposition is well advanced.^ Such cases 
indicate that the inference of life from observed 
movement is not in itself primary. Many peoples 
regard inanimate objects as 'alive,' but the mean- 
ing of this is clearly shown by the Tongan and 
West African notion that these objects ' die ' 
when they are broken or destroyed.^ The view 

1 W. E. Roth, Ethnological Studies among the Sorth-West 
Central Queensland Aborigines, Brisbane, 1897, p. 161 ; cf. art. 
Death akd Disposal of the Dead (Introductory), vol. iv. 
p. 412 f. 

2 Roth, p. 161. 

• K. L. Parker, The Euahlayi Tribe, London, 1905, p. 3.'). 
^ L. Fison, JAI X. [1880-81] 141. 

s W. Mariner, The Tonoa Islands', London, 1818, ii. 130 ; M. 
H. Kingsley, FL viii. [1897] 145. 



that so vaguely ideated a content is concrete is 
supported by the fact that any haphaz.'trd identi- 
fication serves as 'life'; examples will be found 
below. But the primal concept is, as the first 
Australian instance shows, very near to a result 
in which a man's ' life ' is himself in replica. 

This perhaps is to be regarded as the second stage 
of analysis. The Hervey Islanders considered that 
fat men had fat souls, thin men thin souls.' Ac- 
cording to the Karo Battak of Sumatra, a man's 
toidi disappears at death. It is a 'copy' of the 
owner, his ' other self.' = According to the Karens, 
that which ' personates the varied phenomena of 
life ' is the kelah or Id, which ' is not the .soul,' but 
' is distinct from the body and its absence from the 
body is death.' It is also the individuality of the 
animated being.' ' It merely gives life,' and ' can- 
not be distinguished from the person himself.'* 
The Iroquois conceived of ' an exceedinglj' subtle 
and refined image, . . . possessing tlie form of the 
body, with a head, teeth, arms, legs,' etc.^ 

The next stage is characteristic of Papuan and 
Malayan belief. 

' The Dayak idea of life is this, that in man^nd there is a 
living principle called s^mangat or semungi ; that sickness ia 
caused by the temporar>' absence and death by the total depar- 
ture of this principle from the body.' ^ 
But this ' principle ' is a replica of the individual, 
and a miniature replica. This is the tanoana, or 
' little man,' of the Torajas of Celebes.' The 
scmangat of the wOd Malayan tribes is a ' shape,' 
exactly like the man himself, but no bigger than a 
grain of maize.* The scmangat of the Malays is a 
' thumbling,' and corresponds exactly in shape, 
proportion, and complexion to its embodiment or 
casing (sarong), i.e. the body. It is the cause of 
life ; it is itself an individual person, as it were, 
and is separable from the body in sleep, sickness, 
and death.' A similar conception is found in 
S. Africa,'" America," and other localities spo- 
radically, but is general enough to be regarded as 
typical. 

The problem of its origin is not clear. J. G. 
Frazer thus describes the conception : 

' As the savage commonly explains the processes of inanimate 
nature by supposing that they are produced by living beinga 
working in or behind the phenomena, so he explains the 
plienomena of life itself. If an animal lives and moves, it can 
only be, he thinks, because there is a little animal inside which 
moves it : if a man lives and moves, it can only be because he has 
a little man or animal inside who moves him.''- 

The argument agrees with the fact that the minia- 
ture replica is usually supposed to be the cause of 
life, but it is difficult to understand how the idea 
of an inner being, whether in inanimate things 
or in living men, could have arisen in the first 
instance. Only the contrast between the dead and 
the living body seems adequate to produce it ; 
later, the idea could be applied to all natural 
objects. As for the miniature size of the replica, 
this is probably a refinement of an earlier concep- 
tion, in which such qualities were distinguished, 
and it would be naturally deduced from the fact 
that the man's body is still present, without any 
reduction ; that which has departed, therefore, 
must be infinitesimally small. The same result is 

1 W. W. Gill, Myths and Songs from the South Pacific, Lon- 
don. 1876, p. 171. 

2 J. H. Neumann, Slededeelingen van wege het nederlandsch 
Zendetinggcnootschap, xlvi. [1902] 127 f. 

3 E. B. Cross, JAOSiv. [1854] 309 ff. 

4 F. Mason. JASBe xxxiv. [1865] 195. 

5 J. N. B.IHewitt, JAFL viii. [1895] 107. 

6 S. St. John, Life in the Forests of the Far East', London, 
1863. i. 177 ft. 

7 A. C. Kruijt, Het Animisme in den ind. Archipel, The 
Hague, 1906, p. 12. 

8 W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay 
Peninsula, London. 1906, ii. 1. 194. 

9 W. W. Skeat. MaUm Magic. London, 1900, p. 47 ff. 

10 J. Macdonald. Religion and Myth, London, 1893. p. 33. 

11 J. G. Swan. Smithsonian Contributions, xvi. [1870] 84. 

12 C£3, pt. ii.. Taboo and the Perils of the Soul, London, 1911, 
p. 26. 



10 



LIFE AND DEATH (Primitive) 



necessitated hy the idea that the life must take 
its departure hj' some one of tlie orifices of the 
boiiy, and it is possible also that certain character- 
istics of the nionior}'-imaf:e may have exercised an 
inlhience.' 

In these early stages the life-principle is, though 
' relined,' always material ; the conception of 
insubstantiality is quite a late achievement of 
thoufjht.- Hut certain natural confusions occur. 
Thus, the scmanijatoi the wild Malays ditl'ers frmii 
the conception lield hj' other races in the sanio 
regions, for that which gives life is t\iejiivn. The 
Pataui Malaj'S also believe in a 'life breath,' 
ntjau-n ; the simangat, in their view, is not the vital 
principle, but is possessed by every object in the 
universe.* 

In his atud.v of the animism of the Mohiccas and neighbouring 
districts. A. 0. Kruijt finds a permanent distinction between 
the soul of a living,' man and the soul of a dead man. The 
former he considers to be impersonal, thousih in many cases it 
is certainl.v itself a person, and al^'ays is a miniature replica of 
the owner ; it gives him life. Its material is fine, ethereal 
substance ; it has various seats in the body where its action is 
moat conspicuous, such as the pulses. It dies when the man 
dies. The other soul is a continuation of the individual after 
life and does not appear till death. In the latter conception we 
seem to have a combined result of the memory-imag'e and the 
hallucinational ghost. 

A later detail, which involves the idea that all 
things in natui'e either are animate or possess 
' soiils,' is also attached to the theory of the 
semnixjat, thoirgli it is chiefly things concerning or 
interesting man that possess the miniature replica.'' 

The senmngat of the Eastern Seniang is red like 
blood, or is in the blood.!* Life is usually regarded 
as being closely connected with the blood — a natural 
inference from observation of wounds or of death 
by loss of blood. Life and blood are identified.'' 
A vaguer identification is frequently found with 
various parts or states of the living organism. To 
some, as the Iroquois, life is the flesh' — a concept 
which probably originated from experience of 
nutrition. The heart is a seat of life ; in some 
cases it, like blood, has a ' soul ' of its own.' The 
Australians regard the kidney-fat as an important 
seat of life," and the caul-fat and omentum are so 
regarded.'" 

The absence of breath in the case of the dead 
is a fact naturally assisting a belief that the breath 
Ls the life, or that the life is in the breath. In the 
Marquesas it was the custom to hold the nose and 
lips of dying persons, in order to prevent death." 
In primitive thought there is no explicit incon- 
sistency in the identification of life with various 
things ; the early books of the OT hold, now the 
breath,'- now the blood, to be the ' life.' Primitive 
biology, in its secondary stages, has a larger list.'^ 

In this is to be included the shadow of a man, 
■which is (like everything connected with person- 
ality) ' a vital part,' " and a man's reflexion is also 
closely akin to, if not identified with, his life. 

In Melanesia is a pool ' into which if any one looks he dies ; 
the mali^'nant spirit takes hold upon his" life hy means of his 
reflection on the water.' i^ 

The lore of .shadow, mirror-image, and portrait 
becomes prominent, however, only in the third 
stage of culture — that of the higher barbarism. 
The Chinese place the djing man's picture upon 
his body, in the hope of saving his life." In Siam, 

I A. K. Crawle,\-, The Idea of the Soiii, London, 1909, p. 200 ff. 
" lb. pp. 57, 209 ; the Kinjin Dayak term is in point, urip-ok 

= ' fine ethereal life ' (p. 110). 

s Skcat-Blagden, ii. 191 ; N. Annandale, Stan, iii. [1903] 27. 

* Crawley, p. 132. 6 Skeat-Blat'den, loc. cit. 

6 On 9'. Lv 17">*; Crawley, p. 112; Frazcr. p. 240. 

' Hewitt, loc. cit. 8 Crawley, pp. 120, 136. 

8 See references in Crawley, Mystic Bme. London. 1002 p. 
101 ff. 

lO W. R. Smith, Religion of the Hemilfa", London, 1891, p 379. 

u Frazer, p. 31. isOnS'. 

13 Crawlej, Idra of the Soul, p. 233. 

II Krazer, p. 77 fT. 

15 R. H. Codrington, in JAl x. 313. 
I« Crawle.\ , Idea of the Soul, p. 22.'i. 



' when a copy of the face of a person is made and 
taken away from him, a portion of his life goes 
with the picture.'' The comparison of the life- 
essence with fire is the best known of many meta- 
phorical analogies, ami occupies a prominent jilace 
in myth— CI/., the liie of life infused by Proiiicllieus 
into the clay figures which became men — and in 
melaphj'sical theology. 

Until modern times, speculation has concerned 
itself with the source of life rather than with its 
origin. In early m3'thology concei)tions like that 
of the Ilervey Islanders, wiio regard a 'point'- aa 
the beginning of existence, are rare. Rare also 
are such pseudo-biological ideas as the Maori con- 
cept that the life of a man is contained in the 
catamenia,' but the usual conclusion is that the 
' soul ' is the source of life or is itself life. 

2. The life of nature. — I<ife in the vegetable 
kingdom has prob.ably always been recognized, and 
primitive thought doubtless distinguished it as 
being ditt'erent in character from that of animals. 
The same may have been the case with its attitude 
to inanimate things, unless it merely ' personal- 
ized' them. 

The view of Tylor, that in primitive animism 
there is ' a belief in the animation of all nature,' 
and that ' man recognizes in every detail of his 
world the operation of personal life and will,'* c.-m 
be applied only to certain developments of the 
higher barbaric stage. 

'It is not likely that at one starve man regarded ererythintr as 
alive, and at a later sta^re graclually discriminated l)ot\voen 
animate and inanimate. The fact is, that he began by reirard- 
ing everything as neutral, merely as given. Yet thounh he 
never thought about the matter at all, in his acts ... lie dis- 
tinguished as well as we do between animate and inanimate.'^ 
' Whatever power and importance he [primitive man) may have 
ascribed to inanimate objects, he drew the strongest of lines 
between such objects and what was endowed with life.' 6 

An excellent observer remarks of the Kafirs 
of S. Africa, in regard to the question whether 
they ' imagine everything in nature to be alive,' 
that they very rarely think of the matter at all. 
When questioned on the subject of tlie animation 
of stones, they laughed, and said, ' It would never 
enter a Kafir's head to think stones felt in that 
sort of w,ay.'' 

Throughout the fluid and ill-defined psychology 
of primitive man we may distinguish a tendency 
to mark ott' the concept of things as living from 
the concept of them as ideas, whether in life or 
after death. The latter aspect is ideational, the 
former perceptual. An excellent illustration of 
the distinction is the Indonesian view, expounded 
by Kniijt, that the life-soul of creatures is never 
confused or compounded with the after-death soul. 
In later psychologies, on the other hand, Tylor's 
hypothesis, that eventually the ' life ' of a thing 
and its ' pliantom ' arc combined, holds good. 
Language has pi'obably had much to do with the 
combination. The view of Kruijt, however, th.at 
the Indonesian 'life-soul' is but a part of the 
world-soul, applies only to the higher developments 
of animism." Here we have a parallel with the 
pantheistic theories of the W(!rld. 

3. Regard for life. — Another parallel with these 
is the regard for life generally, a regard which 
develops with culture but is more pronounced in 
Oriental than in Western morality. At first this 
feeling i.s a vague altruism, but later it is fused 

1 E. Young, The, Kingdom of the Yellow Kobe, London, 1893, 
p. 110. 
- Crawley, Idea of the Soul, p. 93, quoting Gill. 
3 lb. p. 90. 1 PCJ i. 286 fl., 424 ff. 

5 Crawley, Idea of the Soul, p. 20. 

6 E. .1. Payne, liistonj of the Nexn World caUed America, 
Oxford. 181)2-90, ii. 26;'.. 

" D. Kidd, Samge Childhood. London, 1006, p. Il.Tf. 

8 See Crawley, Idea of tlie Soul, p. 262. In Semitic thought 
living water is running water, livmg flesh raw flesh (W. B. 
Smith, pp. 190. .TJ9). These phrases are probably metaphorical 



LIFE AND DEATH (Primitive) 



11 



with metapliysical estimates of the intrinsic value 
of life, as such. 

'In Buddhism, Jainism, and Taouism the respect for animal 
life is extreme.'! 'a disciple of Buddha may not knowingly 
deprive any creature of life, not even a wonn or an ant. He 
may not drink water in which animal life of any kind whatever 
is contained, and must not even pour it out on ^rass or clay.' - 
'The Jain is stricter still in his regard for animal life. He 
sweeps the ground before him as he goes, lest animate things 
be destroyed ; he walks veUed, lest he inhale a living organism ; 
he considers that the evening and night are not times for 
eating, since one might then swallow a live thing by mistake ; 
and he rejects not only meat but even honey, together with 
various fruits that are supposed to contain worms, not because 
of his distnste for worms, but because of bis regard for life.'^ 
Throughout Japan, ' the life of animals has always been held 
more or less sacred.'** In China it is regarded as 'meritorious 
to save animals from death — even insects if the number mounts 
to a hundred. ... to set at libertj- animals intended to be 
slaughtered.* 'To kill ten insects . . . without great reason 
to kill . . . animals for food . . . " to be foremost to encourage 
the slaughter of animals " ' are regarded as errors * of the same 
magnitude as the crime of devising a person's death or of 
drowning or murdering a child.' 5 The Burmese ' laugh at the 
suggestion made by Europeans, that Buddhists abstain from 
taking life because they believe in the transmigration of souls, 
having never heard of it before.' t^ The same position may be 
assumed with regard to the Brahman doctrine of ahiiiisd, which 
includes the sanctity of all life. On the other hand, ' no creed 
in Christendom teaches kindness to animals as a dognia of 
religion.' 'The Manichsans prohibited all killing of animals, 
but Manichceism did not originate on Christian ground.' ^ 

4. The life deposit. — A remarkable belief is that 
of the ' life-index ' or ' external soul,' which is found 
witli some regularity in all the stages of the lower 
civilizations. An early example is the sex totems 
of Australia. 

The Wot jobaluk tribe of South-Eastern Australia ' held that 
"the life of Nguniipgunut (the Bat) is the life of a man and the 
life of Yartatgurk (the Nightjar) is the life of a woman," and 
that when either of these creatures is killed the Ufe of some 
man or of some woman is shortened. In such a case every man 
or every woman in the camp feared that he or she might be the 
victim, and from this cause great tights arose in this tribe.' 8 

In later folk-lore the idea is crystallized into the 
talisman, but previously a host of objects are 
regarded as eligible for the safe-deposit of the 
individual life. It is noteworthy that the subject 
is more frequent in'mythology than in practical life. 
The fact that, according to the common-sense view, 
the more ' deposits ' of life a man has, the more is 
he liable to death, may explain this natural ditl'er- 
ence. A remarkable aspect of the belief is con- 
nected with the growth of children and the growth 
of plants. The inception of this idea can hardly be 
attributed to any other influence than the obser- 
vation of the facts of growth. It is therefore prob- 
ably not originated by the notion of life. 

But the .sympathetic relation soon develops into 
a life-interest. 

' In folk-t.iles the life of a person is sometimes so bound up 
with the life of a plant that the withering of the plant will im- 
mediately follow or be followed by the death of the person.' 9 
'Among the M'Bengas in Western Africa, about the Gaboon, 
when two children are born on the same day, the people plant 
two trees of the same kind and dance round them. The life of 
each of the children is believed to be bound up mth the life of 
one of the trees : a:id if the tree dies or is thrown down, the\' 
are sure that the cliild will soon die. In Sierra Leone also it is 
customary at the birth of a child to plant a shoot of a i/ialep- 
tree, and they think that the tree will grow with the child and 
be its god. If a tree which has been thus planted withers away, 
the people consult a sorcerer on the subject. . . . Some of the 
Papuans unite the life of a new-born child sympathetically with 
that of a tree by driving a pebble into the bark of the tree. 
This is supposed to gi.e them complete mastery over the child's 
life ; if the tree is cut down, the child will die. ... In Bali 
a coco-palm is planted at the birth of a child. It is believed to 
grow up equally with the child, and is called its "life-plant."' 10 

1 'Westennarck, MI ii. 497. 

2 Ih. quoting H. Oldenberg, Buddha, Berlin, 13SI, pp. 290, 351. 
8 lb, p. 498 i., quoting E. W. Hopkins, Religions of India, 

London, 189e, p. -ZisS. 
* E. J. Reed, Japan, London, 1880, i. 61. 

5 Indo-Chinese Gleaner, iii. [1821] 164, 205 f., quoted by Wester, 
marck, loe. cit, 

6 H. F. Hall, The Soul of a People, London, 1902, p. 232 f. 
"! MI ii. 500. 

8 A. W. Howitt, JAI xiv. [1883-S4] 145, xviii. [1SS7-8S1 58. 
^ Frazer, GB'-^, pt. vii., Balder the Beautiful, London, 1913, ii. 
169, 102, 1C5, 110, 117 f., 135 f. 
1» lb. a. 150-164. 



Similar customs are still frequent in Europe, and ' life-trees,' as 
Frazer styles them, have always been a prominent feature of 
European folk-lore. ' The life of Simeon, prince of Bulgaria, 
was bound up with a certain column in Constantinople, so that 
if the capital of the column were removed, Simeon would im- 
mediately die. The emperor took the hint and removed the 
capital, and at the same hour . . . Simeon died of heart- 
dise.a3e in Bulgaria.' 1 

The conclusion of these ideas supplies a constant 
motive in fairy-tales and the mythology which is 
their basis. 

Thus, ' Koshchei the Deathless is killed bj' a blow from the egg 
or the stone in which his life or death is secreted ; . . . the 
magician dies when the stone in which his life or death is con- 
tained is put under his pillow ; and the Tartar hero is warned 
th.at he may be killed by the golden arrow or golden sword in 
which his soul h.is been stowed away."- A remarkable instance 
occurs in the myth of the god Balder. His life was bound up 
in the mistletoe. The apparent inconsistency that he was slain 
bj- a blow from the plant is explained by Frazer : ' When a per- 
son's life is conceived as embodied in a particular object, with 
the existence of which his own existence is inseparably liound 
up, and the destruction of which involves his own, the object in 
question may be regarded and spoken of indifferently as his 
life or his death. . . . Hence if a man's death is in an object, 
it is perfectly natural that he should be killed by a blow from 
it.' 3 

The idea that the mistletoe itself is the life of the 
tree on which it giows is of the same order as the 
Malay and Chinese idea with regard to the knobs 
and excrescences on tree trunks.'' Two converse 
ideas may be noted. A person ■whose life is magi- 
cally isolated has one weak spot, e.g. the heel of 
Achilles. Death, no less than life, may be 'de- 
posited,' as in the stories where it is kept in a 
bottle. See, further, art. Life-token. 

5. Life magic. — When the conception of life as 
a magical essence is established, the formula is 
applied all round the social and religious splieres. 
The elementary facts of nutrition thus become the 
basis of an elaborate vitalistic philosopliy. In its 
more primitive forms this appears as a practical 
science of life insurance. ' Food . . . during 
thousands of years occupied the largest space in 
man's mental area of vision." This consideration 
helps to explain the existence of so large a body of 
superstitions concerning food. And into the.se 
enter the magical and, later, the vitalistic theory. 
Particular creatures are eaten because of their par- 
ticular vital force.* The slayer eats part of his foe 
in order to assimilate his life and strength (see, 
further, art. CANNlBALISiVl. §§ 3-7). In order to pro- 
cure longevity the Zulus ate the tlesh of long-li\ed 
animals.' Bledea injected into the veins of /Eson 
an infusion of the long-lived deer and crow." In 
the lower culture special virtue is assigned to 
human flesh.' Besides the eating of flesh and the 
drinking of blood, there are various methods of 
acquiring the 'life essence.' The Caribs transfer 
the life of an animal to a boy by rubbing its juices 
into his body.'" Anointing with amrta oil and with 
gold-grease are methods of procuring life found in 
Indian and Chinese folk-lore respectively." The 
Tibetan Buddhist acquires ' life ' by drinking the 
'ambrosia' from the ' Vase of Life'" (see, further, 
artt. Food and Eating the God). 

Long life is often the subject of charms. The 
Chinese wear a longevity garment on birthdays." 
The Hindus ascribed long life to continence." 
Most religions include prayers for long life. After 

1 Frazer, Balder, ii. 156 f. - lb. p. 279. 3 /(,. 

4 Skeat, Malay Magic, p. 194 ; Crawley, Idea of the Soul, p. 
164, quoting de Grool. 

5 Payne, i. 279. 

6 Frazer, GB^, pt. v.. Spirits of the Com and of the Wild, 
London, 1912, ii. 13Sff. 

^ H. Clallawav, Nursery Tales of the Zulus, London, 1868, p. 
175. 
8 Ovid, Metam. vii. 271 ff. » Parker, p. 35. 

10 J. G. Frazer, Totemisrn, London, lOlo, i. 42. 

11 The Bower MS, ed. A. F. K. Hoernle, Calcutta, 1893-97. ii. 
107 : J. J. M. de Groot, The Bel. St/&tem of China, Leyden. 
1892ff.,iv. 331. 

12 L. A. WaddeU, The Buddhism of Tibet, London, 1895, p. 
447. 

13 De Groot, i. 60 ff. " Bower MS, ii. 142. 



12 



LIFE AND DEATH (Primitive) 



a death, magic is employed to prolong the life of 
the survivors.' 

Ma^ifAl ])ersons, and later the .sods, are regarded 
as both possessing a richer store of life and being able 
to impart it to others ; the savage medicineman is 
able t<) infuse life into an inanimate fetish. Breath- 
ing upon the object gives it the breath of life (as in 
Ezekiel's apologue of the dead bones) ; smearing it 
with blood gives it tho life of the blood. ^ Accord- 
ing to the Tantras, a king may slay his enemy by 
infusing life into his foe's edigy and then destroying 
it.^ Divine jiersons naturally tend to become long- 
lived or immortal. 

But, though divine persons throughout bear a 
more or less ' charmed life,' absolute immortality 
is a late conception. The gods of the Homeric 
pantheon maintained their life by eating ambrosia, 
the 'food of deathlessness,' and by drinking nec- 
tar;* and similar ideas were connected with the 
Persian haoma and the Hindu soma. In Scandin- 
avian myth the apples of ISunn are eaten by the 
gods in order to perpetuate their life.' The Egypt- 
ian gods were mortal." The tendency to immortal- 
ity, however, is carried out in the higher religions, 
probably in connexion with the natural attribution 
to the gods of a general power over life and a con- 
trol of creation. In the end the gods assume in 
themselves the ultimate hopes and fears of men, 
and they become ' lords and givers of life.' 

6. Renewal of life. — A crude form of the ideas 
connected with a renewed earthly life after death, 
or resurrection, may be seen among the Australian 
aborigines, who speak of the ghost returning at 
times to the grave and contemplating its mortal 
remains.' Similarly, on the ^^ . Coast of Africa 
' it is the man himself in a shadowy or ghostly 
form that continues his existence after death.'* 
The belief in the revivitication of a dead person 
docs not appear until the thaumaturgic stages of 
barbarous religion, when it becomes a favourite 
miracle, performed by a word of power or by the 
life-giving touch or contact with the body of the 
divine person. But the belief in a second life, or, 
rather, a series of lives, is a remarkable and regular 
feature of primitive thought. It takes the form of 
reincarnation ; the dead are born again in their 
descendants, the idea being a natural inference 
from the resemblance of children to their parents 
and grandparents." The Central Australians have 
developed it into an elaborate theory of heredity, 
in which the ' life' is a germ •plasm."' Other Aus- 
tralians evolved the notion that white men were 
blackfellows returned to life ; ' tumble down 
blackfellow, jump up whitefellow' is a familiar 
phrase. The wliiteness of the native corpse after 
cremation has been suggested as the basis of the 
notion." 

The idea of reincarnation refers also to living 
parents. Thus an old blackfellow of Australia 
cries to his son, ' There you stand with my body ! ' 
The son is recognized as ' the actual re-iiuarnation 
of the father.' '-■ This frequent belief has been sug- 

1 Rfijendralala Mitra, Indo-Artjaii3^ Calcutta, 18S1, ii. 146. 

2 Cf. A. B. Klli§, The Tnhi-b-peakiiifj Peoples, London, 1887, 
p. 101 f. ; J. O. Muller, Geach, der amer. Vrrelujiontn, Baeel, 
Khi, p. flO«; W. R. Smith, pp. 33U, 341. 

3 K. Mitra, ii. 110. « 11. v. S39 J., Od. v. 199. 

*» J. Qrimm, Teutonic Htythologv, Enir. tr., London, 1882-88, 
p. 318f. 

fi A. Wiedemann, Religion o/ the Ancient Eyyptiaiii', Eng. Ir., 
London, 1897, p. 173; cf. Krazer, GB^, pt. iii., The Dying God, 
do. 1911, p. 1 ff. 

' Howitt, J A I xiii. [1883-S41 168. 

1 Crawley, Idfa nfihe Soul, )t. 17.1, quoting A. B. Ellie. 

»J. r.-irl(in8on, ./AI xxxvi. llOOfl) 3I2II. (Africa); Kntijt, 
p. 170 ; Crawley. Idea of the Soul, pp. 101, 110, 101 (S. Ameriui, 
Melanesia, Indoneiiia). 

"> Crawley, Idea «j the Smd, p. 88. 

" L. FiBon and A. W. Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kumai, .Mel- 
bourne. 1880, p. 248; Howitt, Native Tribes of South-Easl 
AuslTolia, London, 1904. p. 442. 

'2 Howitt, JAI xW. Ui ; M»nu, ix. 8. 



gested as an e.\planalion of certain customs of 
which killing the hrst-born is a culminution — tlio 
child is supposed to have robbed the father of a 
portion of liis life (cf. JCJiJj: vi. 33"). 

7. The nature of death. — Primitive thought has 
no dehnition of the nature of death, but the usual 
attitude towards it, as may be inferred from mourn- 
ing customs, is a mystic terror. The catastrophic 
nature of the event is perhaps the fundamental 
reason for this attitude, hut various emotions and 
ideas are superimposed. Grief and sympathy occur 
among the lowest races, and they develop with cul- 
ture. Another emotion is fear of the cor])se as a 
mysterious personality ; a parallel fear is that of 
the departed ' something,' ghost or spirit. Like 
other tabu states and social crises, death has not 
only its rites de passciijc, such as mourning, but a 
mysterious power of pollution. This is partly con- 
nected with fear that the survivors may also 
become victims, a fear which develops into an avoid- 
ance of infection.' These ideas reach their climax 
in the Zoroastrian conception of the absolute im- 
|iurity of dea^ii, a type of all unclcaniiess." In 
others of the higher religions, particularly Christi- 
anity, the material notions of the state of death 
give way to spiritual. The departed soul has less 
connexion with the body, although even here a 
physiological fact has kept up the idea of ' the 
odour of sanctity.' 

Fear of dying has no connexion with the primi- 
tive fear of death." Suicide for trivial reasons is 
very common among the lower races. 

' Many savay;es meet death witli much indift'erencc, or regard 
it as no great evil, but merely as a change to a life very similar 
to this. But it is a fact often noticed among ourselves, that a 
person on the verge of death may resign himself to his fate with 
the greatest calmness, altliough he has been afraid to die 
throughout his life. Moreover, the fear of death may be dis- 
guised by thoughtlessness, checked by excitement, or mitigated 
by dying in company. There are peoples who are conspicuoua 
for their bravery, and yet have a great dread of death. Nobody 
is entirely free from this feeling, though it varies greatly in 
strength among different races and in different individuals. la 
many savages it is so strongly developed that they cannot bear 
to hear death mentioned." * The last objection, however, may 
often be due to mystical notions. 

Christianity esteems death as the passage to a 
better life, and the higher religions, generally, 
mitigate the inevitable lot. 

Speculation on the origin of death is consider- 
able in early thought, and mj'tlis innumerable 
have been invented to explain it (cf. art. Death 
AND Disposal of the Dead [Introductory], vol. 
iv. p. 411 f. ). A common motive of these is a mis- 
understanding or a trick. At a higher stage death 
is attributed to the malevolence of demons, often 
supposed to eat the life of men and so produce 
death.' Otherwise, the separation of the life-giving 
soul from the body as a fact, not as a theory or 
origin, is usually explained as the result of sorcerj', 
except in cases of obvious violence or accident.' 
By various means the human sorcerer, like the 
supernatural demon, destroys or .abstracts tho life. 

In the higher barbarism death appears as a 
punishment for breaking tabu or other supernatural 
injunctions. The greater religions connect its 
origin \\\i\\ sin, Christianity with the jirinuil sin 
of disobedience.' Throughout, humanity is in- 
stinctively agreed that death is unnatural, and the 
conception of a second life is a jirotest against it. 

8. Mythological and ethical applications. — 
Apart from myths in explanation of the origin of 
death and the less fretjueiit fancies of a mystical or 
magical life-source, primitive thought makes little 
use of the concepts of life and death as motives of 

1 Crawley, M i/stic Jtose, p. 95 ff. ; MJ ii. 687. 
s.s'BA'iv. (18Wi)p. Ixxvt. 
^ For the contrarv view see MJ ii. 535 f. 
* MI ii. 635. 

5 J. O. F. Riedel. JJe sluik- en kroesharige rassen tusschtn 
Seiches en Papua, The Hague, 1886, p. 271. 
t MI i. 24. 29, ii. 534, 061. 
' tin 2 and 3 ; cf. Manu, v. 4. 



LIFE AND DEATH (American) 



13 



story. Their deification is rarer stOl. In some 
stories one or more remarkable personages are 
brought into close connexion with the facts of life 
and death. Thus, the Maoris tell how men would 
have been deathless if Maui, the culture-hero, had 
succeeded in passing through the body of Night. 
In Scandinavian story Lif and Lifprasir ('life' 
and 'desiring life') survive the destruction of the 
world.' The usual result is that some great deity 
possesses control over life, a.s in Hebraism, Christi- 
anity, and Islam. There is a tendency also to con- 
nect vitality with the sun-god ; the Kigveda speaks 
of the sun in the character of Savitar, the Vivifier.^ 
In Hindu theology Yama, the first of mortal men, 
became ' King of the Dead.' In Christian theo- 
logy a contrast is drawn between the old Adam, by 
whom death entered the world, and the new, who 
re-introduced ' life ' on a higher plane. A less re- 
fined moral is drawn in the Babylonian epic ; the 
conclusion is that Gilgamesh must die and cannot 
escape the universal lot. 

' Let him hope for and, if possible, provide for proper burial. 
... He will then, at least, not suffer the pangs of hunger in 
the world of spirits.' * 

The Scandinavian figures, Lif and Lifprasir, are 
among the rare cases where life is personified. 
Death is more frequently deified. Old Slavic 
myth seems to have had a goddess Smrt," and the 
Baganda are said to have a god of death, Walumbe." 
Tlie Etruscan figure of Charun may be similar to 
the last, the conception being derived from human 
executioners, and the god being a slayer rather 
than a god of death. The Thanatos of Greek 
poetry, the brother of Sleep, is hardly a religious 
personification. The Sheol of the OT and the 
Hel of the Eddas are originally places which receive 
the dead. As a rule, the figure later described as 
Death is either a messenger of the gods or a god 
whose office is indirectly connected with the death 
of men. So Yama has his messengers, and the 
Tatars believe in s^n ' angel ' of death. "The latter 
is the type of Christian ideas. The Greeks had 
both Charon and Hermes Psychopompos, but in 
modem Greek folk-lore Charon has become a figure 
of terror, Death himself.' Death with his scythe 
seems to be a transference from a personification 
of Time. 

A certain control over life is assumed in primi- 
tive ritual drama, as in the pretended death and 
revivification of youths at initiation, and of candi- 
dates for the priesthood.' Ideas of a magical 
vitality grew up out of sacred meals ; at the same 
time there appears the connexion of sin and death, 
and the consequent aspiration towards a purging 
of sin accompanied by a renewal of life. Out of 
these elements arises the ethical view of the re- 
newal, but still undivorced from a mystical idea of 
a spiritual prolongation of existence. ' Salvation ' 
in the life after death was promised by the Greek 
mysteries.' In its lowest terms the salvation re- 
sulting from belief in Christ was eternal life. 
Faith and morality meet when eternal life is the 
reward for a good life on earth. Life is identified 
with goodness. 

The fear of retribution in a future existence has 
been impressed by several of the great religions, 

1 p. D. Ohartepie de la Saussaye, Religion of the Teutons, 
Boston, 1902, p. 352. 

2 M. Monier-Williamg, ReliqioiiS Thought and Life in India, 
London, 1SS3, p. 17 ; A. A. Macdonell, Ved. Myth., Strassburg, 

1897, p. 34. 

3 Hopkins, Reunions of India, p. 12S. 

i M. Jastrow, Religions of Babulonia and Assyria, Boston, 

1898, p. 512. 

6 Grimivi, iv. 1560. 

6 ,1. Rosooe, The Banania, London, 1911, p. 316. 

7 J. C. Lawson, ilo'deni Greek folklore and Anc. Greek Re- 
Union, Cambridge, 1910, p. 98 ff. 

"sCf. Spencer-Gilk-n», p. 523 f.; J. Maclean, Compendium of 
Kajir Lares and Cusloins, Mt. Coke, 1858, p. 79 ; art. iMTtiTlox 
(Introductory and Primitive), 4 (1), (2). 
9 Pindar, frag. 102 ; Cicero, Legg. ii. 14. 



notably by Christianity. But there is no justifica- 
tion for connecting the origins of religion with 
either this fear (long posterior to the inception of 
religious ideas, and a late and special ethical de- 
velopment) or the worship of death or the dead. 
The dead are more or less feared in early thougiit ; 
the infection of death is carefully avoided ; the 
ghosts of the dead are intensely dreaded, and there- 
fore carefully propitiated. Many ghosts, it is 
true, have been developed into gods, but there are 
many keys which fit the doors of religion. 

LrrERATCRE. — This is cited in the article, but the whole of E. 
B. Tyler's exposition of animism in hifi Primitive Culture'-^, 
London, 1891, applies to the subject. 

A. E. Crawlev. 

LIFE AND DEATH (American).— The beliefs 
of the aborigines of America agree in the main 
^^th those of other peoples at the same stages of 
development ; but there are a few interesting 
features of an individual character. 

With regard to ideas of the lite which informs 
the organism, the Eskimos identify it or its action 
with the ' life- warmth.' ' So the Navahos regarded 
the warmth of the body as the living soul ; the 
'shade' or 'double,' a distinct concept, was 
supposed to wander away when a man was sick 
or dying.^ The Sauk identified the soul with 
'vitality,' and supposed it to exist after death.' 
The Toltec explained that it was ' something with- 
in them which made them live : . . . which caused 
death when it quitted them.'* Identifying breath 
or air with the vital principle, the Acagchemems 
are represented as crediting the atmosphere with 
a mortiferous quality.' 

* In many American languages the Great Spirit and the Great 
Wmd are one and the same both in word and signification.' 6 

The Aztec word ehecatl, e.g., means 'wind, air, 
life, soul, shadow.' A phrase attributed to an 
Indian orator is: 'The fire in your huts and the 
life in your bodies are one and the same thing.' 
Spirits and human magicians, such as the shamans, 
devour men's souls ; the result is death.' Death 
is ' infectious ' ; a dead man's belongings decay 
quickly. Such is the ancient opinion among the 
Irish also, who hold that a dead man's clothes 
wear out more quickly than those of a living man." 
The belief in the reincarnation of the dead in 
children is widely spread and firmly held. The 
Haida refine upon it by saying that after five 
such reincarnations the individual ' soul ' is anni- 
hilated.' 

A sjjecial feature of American religious theory, 
on which practically the whole ritual of the central 
nations was founded, was developed from the usual 
primitive idea that divine persons are subject to 
senility, death, and decay. Alone among the 
Mexican gods 'Tezcatlipoca 'is credited with per- 
petual juvenility.'" 'The principle was developed 
that the gods, in particular the sun, would die If 
deprived of food. Hence the perpetual round of 
human sacrifices ofTered on Maya and Nahua altars. 
This daily ' feast of flowers,' as it was euphemisti- 
cally termed, kept the gods alive. A serious result 
was the equally perpetual carrying on of warfare 
for the sole purpose of obtaining captives to serve 
as victims. The heart, as the symbol of life, was 
the choicest portion." 

1 E. W. Nelson, IS RBEW, pt. i. [1899], p. 422. 

2 A. 0. Morice, Proc. Can. Inst., vii. [Toronto, 188S-S9] 168 f. 

3 W H. Keating, Narrative of an Expedition to the Source of 
St. Peter's River, etc., Philadelphia, 1824, i. 229, 232, ii. l.'M. 

■• E. J. Pavne, History of the Sew World called America, 
Oxford, 1892-99, i. 468, quoting Oriedo. 
5 yR iii. 525. ^ lb. iii. 117. 

7 J. JettS, JRAI xxxvii. (19071 161, 176. 

8 F. Boas, JAFL vi. (18931 40 ; ib. viii. (1895] 110. 

9 G. M. Dawson, ' The Haida Indians," in Geol. Survey of 
Canada. Toronto, 1880, p. 121 f. 

10 Payne, i. 429. 

11 Ib. i. 523 ; of. L. Spence, The Myths of Mexico and Peru, 
London, 1913, pp. 74, 98. 



14 



LIFE AND DEATH (Chinese) 



It is n;aiiial lliat an old elnonicler slioukl say : 
'The Maya have an iluuioderule fear of death, and they seem 
to have ifiven it a fipnre i>eculiurly repulsive.' ^ 'In the 
Dresden and other codices trod A la represented as a figure with 
eNposi'd vertebras and skull-like covinteiiance, with the marks 
ol (orruption on his body, and di^playin^ every sign of mortality. 
On his head he wears a snail-symbol, the .\ztec sign of birth, 
perhaps to typify the connection between birth and death. He 
al^*1 weorg a pair of cross-bones. The hieroglyph which accom- 
panies hia figure represents a corpse's head with closed eyes, a 
Hhull. and a sacrificial knife. His symbol is that for the calendar 
day Cimi, which means death. He presides over the west, the 
home of the dead, the region towards which they invariably 
depart with the setting sun. That he is a death-god there can 
be no doubt, but of his name we are ignorant. He is probably 
identical with the Aztec god of death and hell, Mictlan, and is 
IK-rhaps one of those Lords of Death and Hell who invite the 
heroes to the celebrated ^me of ball in the Kiche Popol I'ttJt^ 
and hold them prisoners in their gloomy realm.'- 

Like Hel and Hades, Mictlan seems to liave 
developed from a place into a person. He is a 
' fe'risly monster with capacious month,' like the 
inediicval European identification of the whale anil 
hell. Medi;eval Europe evolved also, but by 
poetical rather than reli^jious imagination, a figure 
akin to that of tlie American god A. For similar 
reasons the Sinaloa are said to have devoted most 
of their worship to Cocohuame, wlio is Death.' 
Another detail of the human sacrifice is this : 
"The idea that the god thus slain in the person of his repre- 
sentative comes to life again immediately, was grajihically re- 
presented in the Mexican ritual by skinning the slain man-god 
and clothing in his skin n livini^ man, who thtis became the new- 
representative of the godhead.''* 

This principle, inobable enough, is, however, a 
secondary development ; the revivification of the 
god was the primary meaning of the sacrifice. 

In Me.xiean theology the supreme deity Tloque- 
Nahuaque (of Molina) is ' he upon whom depends 
the existence of all things.' As is the case else- 
where, the sun is connected with vitality, ' ani- 
mating and keeping alive all creatures.' An 
interesting point is the connexion of Mexican food- 
goddesses witli the idea of life and its bestowal.' 

The aboriginal creation of a Great Spirit has 
been discredited. Equally unreliable are sucli 
forms as the Master of Life (of Lafitau), and 
Master of Breath, though such phrases may have 
been applied sporadically by the Northern Indians 
to some ' great medicine.' 

A feature of the eschatology * is the other- world 
paradise for the brave, comparable only with the 
belief of Islam, although European chivalry shares 
the aversion from dying in bed. 

The ' happy huntin^-ground-s* which have become a proverb, 
are tj-pilied in the Comanche belief— here is ' the orthodox 
AmericaD paradise, in its full glory. In the direction of the 
sttting suD lie the happy prairies, where the buffalo lead the 
hunter in the glorious chase, and where the horse of the pale- 
fa^-e aids those who have excelled in scalping and borse-stealing, 
to attain supreme felicity.' 7 

LiTKBATCRE.— In adiiition to the works cited in the text cf. 
D. G. Brinton, Maths oj' the -V^ic iVurld, New York, IStiS; de 
Nadaillac (J. F. A. du Pouget;, Prehistoric America, do. ISM. 

A. E. Crawley. 
LIFE AND DEATH (Chinese).— i. Popular 
ideas. — Life and death are more intimately asso- 
ciated in the Chinese mind than in the AVestem. 
The curtain separating life and death is thinner. 
The future life to the average Chinese, taught as 
lie is by popular Huddliism and Taoism, is largely 
a replica of this life on a ditlcrent plane of exist- 
ence, but death is no tlienie of beauty. After 
jiassing through the Judgment Halls of the Ten 
■liidges of Hades (a hell Avitli many furies), the 
vitiims are supposed to require food, clothing, 
houses, servants, means of travelling both on 
land and on >\ater, and money. All these are sent 

1 Payne, i. 172, 97. 2 lb. p. 172 L 

s nA iiL 180. 

< J. O. Fraxer, GBf>. London, Ifino, iii. 136. 
'■> XR iii. 195, 423 ; J. Dunn, aut. of the Oregon Territoni. 
Ixmdon, IS44, p. ^54. 
« (In the ideas of a future life see XJl iii. 5308. 
' XH iii. il2». 



to them by their friends and relatives by means 
of burning paper models and imitations. 

2. Ancient beliefs. — The ancient Chinese were 
unable to distinguish between death, sleep, and a 
swoon. They therefore tried to resuscitate the 
dead by calling them by name to return,' etc., by 
providing food for them, by keeping their bodies 
in tiie dress that they wore, and, at first, by tightly 
covering the corpse.* Many customs now in Aogue 
in China are due to this belief. Death was a pro- 
longed sleep (or due to suspended animation) ; and, 
as the sleeper will wake, so the corpse may do the 
same, should the soul return to its habitation.' 
Articles which were believed to promote vitality, 
svich as jade, gold, silver, pearls, and cowries, were 
stufled into the mouths of the dead.* No methods 
of disposing of the dead were employed which 
would quickly destroy the body, and coflins were 
made of such "laterials as pine and cypress, for 
they ' were intended to preserve human bodies 
from putrefaction and to facilitate their resurrec- 
tion by enveloping them thus air-tight in a material 
which, bein" jiossessed of vital energy, was con- 
sidered capable of transmitting life once more into 
the clay." 

The ancient Chinese were most scrupulous in 
Avashing and dressing the dead, so that the body 
might be ready at any time for the soul to return 
to its fleshly dwelling-place.^ 

The strong Chinese reprobation of the mutila- 
tion of the body had its origin in these ancient 
ideas, fo* mutilation prevents the body from being 
in a fit state for the soul to return to it, or to 
ajipear in the next world. Hence criminals were 
beheaded .as a severe jiunishment, and strangling 
was considered a lesser one.' The mode since the 
revolution seems to be that of shooting. 

In the belief of the Chinese life ' remains after 
tlie soul has left the body.'* There is thus a belief 
in a life in death itself, or, as de Groot graphically 
describes it, a cohabitation of the soul and the 
body after death.^ In accordance with this idea, 
there is not a complete separation of soul and 
body. In the popular ideas of the people, one 
of the three souls is in the grave. Thus death 
dominates life, aud life lives in death and is not 
extinguished by it. One of the other souls is be- 
lieved to inhabit the ancestral tablet, while the 
third passes to the other world.'" 

3. Classical ideas. — If we turn now to the 
ancient classics, which throw a light on the early 
life of the Chinese, we find, besides the views 
already expressed, higher conceptions as well, or, 
at all events, less gro.ss ones. Amidst all the 
ceremonial and ritual, the belief in immortality is 
clearly seen." .'Vncestor-worship alone is enough 
to prove this. Even before the days of Taoism 
anci Ijiiddhism, the souls of the ancestors were 
believed to be in heaven.'- Confucianism 'teaches 
the existence of the soul after death,' but nothing 
regarding the character of that existence." The 
knowledge of a future life was hazy and indefinite 
in the old religion of China." 

' Thus they looked up to heaven (whither the spirit was 
gone), and buried (the body) in the earth,' '5 for, it is added, 
' the body and animal soul go downward ; the intelligent spirit 
is on high.'"' 

' J. Leggc, Chinese Classic!, Hongkong, 1861-72 ; SBE xxvii. 
[1SS.S] lUS, 112, 129, 1B7, etc 

-.1. J. M. de Ctont. Jtrlitjiotis Si/Mem of China, Levden, 
lS!)2tf., i. 243 (f., 2!lf., 3JUtt.,4BB. ; Legge, SBE xxvii. 3(iSf. 
3 De Groot, i. 243 £f. * It), p. 20911. 

5 111. p. 293 H. 6 lb. p. 331 0. 7 rb. p. 342 «. 

e lb. p. 348fr. a lb. 1» lb. IV. 74- 

11 Cf. J. Le^e, Religion.^ nf China, London, ISSO, p. 13f. 
1'- J. Dver Ball, The Rctitjioua Aspect in China, Hongkong, 
1908, p. 49. 
, 13 16. p. .10. 
14 Ct. l>cgge, Retigiont of China, p. 117. 
i> Legge, SUE xxvii. StS : see also p. 444. 
IB Legge, Religivns 0/ China, p. 119. 



LIFE AND DEATH (Chinese) 



15 



The attitude of Confucius towards death was 
that of an agnostic. 

He virtually avoided a direct answer to the question asked 
him by one of his disciples about death, his reply being, 'While 
we do not know life, how can we know about death? 'i The 
older commentators say that the master gave ' no answer, be- 
cause spirit* and death are obscure and unprofitable subjects 
to talk about.' Some of the modern Confucian writers agree 
with this opinion, but the majority say that the answer was 
profound, and showed the proper order in which such inquiries 
should be prosecuted, for ' death is only the natural termination 
of life.'- 'To the ordinary reader, however, it would appear that 
this reply was only an e.itempliflration of a passage in the Uoc- 
trine uf'the Mean (xii. 2), 'There is that which even the Sage 
does not know.' 3 

The followers of Confucius have not risen above 
the agnostic position whicli he took, and liere it 
was that Buddhism came to satisfy the longings 
of the ignorant as to tlie future witli its scheme 
of rewards and punishments, its firm beliefs and 
precise statements, its apparent knowledge of 
futurity, and its assurance of lives to come and tlie 
influence of this life on tliem. 

Tlie duration of life and its early or late ending 
were believed by most of the Confucian school to 
be dependent on man's proper use of life, and this 
is a very general belief among the Cliinese. 

' Heaven does not cut short men's lives — they bring them to 
an end in the midst themselves.'-* 'A man of great virtue is 
sure to have long life.'^ A concrete example of this is the 
Great Shun (c. 2300 B.C.), whose filial piety was so great that he 
attained the age of 100.6 

Length of days, therefore, was regarded by tlie 
Chinese as the reward of virtue, and longevity is 
one of tlie live blessings earnestly desired. Over 
many a door is pasted a piece of red paper, renewed 
at the New Year, bearing tSie ^vish, ' ilay the five 
blessings descend on this door. ' 

Though what is stated above is the general 
opinion, all have not subscribed to it. 

The materialistic Wang Ch'ung (c. A.D. 97) says, ' Worthies are 
taken ill and die early, and wicked people may be strong and 
robust and become very old.' 'Human diseases and death are 
not a retribution for evil doing.' ' When a man expires, his fate 
is tuiailed. After bis death lie does not hve again.' ' Human 
lite and death depend oh the length of the span [of life], not on 
good or bad actions.' 7 

The Chinese temperament is one which enjoys 
life to the full. The people are generally contented 
and happy, and the deep hidden meanings of life 
are largely wanting. 

4. Taoism. — In the 3rd and 4th centuries B.C. 
Chinese philosophy was in its golden period. It 
critically examined life and its connotations, and 
evolved original conceptions of the nature, motives, 
and mysteries of existence. This ' pursuit of truth 
and wisdom ' claimed not a few noted men among 
its adherents. Later, Confucianism, with its love 
of rites and ceremonies and its reverence for former 
sages, had the efiect of turning men's minds from 
the inquiries which a philosophical spirit delights 
to make, and Taoism, under whose iegis such 
inquiries had arisen, to a large extent changed to 
a system of rites and idolatry." 

Primitive Taoism — that sliown to us as developed 
through the sayings and mind of its founder, Lao- 
tsQ (b. 604 B.C.), and its earlier writers — knew 
little more than Confucianism as to the great 
subjects of life and death. 

Licius (Ueh.tzii, 4th cent. B.C.) says: 'The living and the 
dead . . . know nothing of each other's state.' ^ ' We all have 
an end, but whither the end leads us is unknown.* 10 Chuancius 
(Chuang-tzu, 3rd and 4th cent. B.C.) asks: 'What should the 
dead know of the living or the li\ing know of the dead ? You 

1 Legge, Chinese Classics, i. 104 (Confucian Analects, 3d. 11). 

2 Jb. i. 104 f., note. ^ /(,. i. 256. 

4 lb. iii. 264 ff. (Shu Einq Book of Shang, xi. 11). 

s J. H. S. Lockhart, A Manual of Chinese Quotations, Hong- 
kong, 1893, p. 160. 

6 Legge, Chinese Classics, i. 21)2 f. and note (Doct. of Mean, 
xvii. 1). 

^ A. Forke, Lun Heng, pt. ii. (Berlin, 1911) p. 162. 

s See A. Forke, Yang Chit's Garden of Pleasure, London, 1912, 
tntrod. p. 7 f. 

'■> L. Giles, Taoist Teachings, London, 1912, p. 32. 

10 lb. p. 2S. 



and I may be in a dream from which we have not yet awaked.' 1 
' To him "who can penetrate the mystery of life, all things are 
revealed.'- 

Tlie prolongation of life and the cheating of 
death of its due, or, rather, the raising of mortal 
life above death by the transforming of life into a 
higher existence,^ has been one of the aims of 
Taoism, to be attained ' by quietism and dis- 
passionativism, by regulating one's breath and 
using medicines.'* 

Lao-tzfi is stated to have said that, to a perfect man, 'life and 
death . . . are but as night and day, and cannot destroy his 
peace.' 5 In Licius we find (as the statement of one almost a 
sage) that life and death were looked upon in the same light. 
Licius says that 'the source of life is death.''' 'There is no 
such thing as absolute life or death' ;7 i.e., 'from the stand- 
j)oint of the Absolute, since there is no such principle as life in 
itself, it follows there can be no such thing as death.' 8 On the 
other hand, we have such statements as 'Great indeed is death ! 
. . . It gives rest to the noble-hearted and causes the base to 
cower. ' ^ The sage looks upon life and death ' merely as waking 
and sleeping.' 10 

In the idealistic and mystical writings of 
Chuancius (Chuang-tztl), one of the great Taoist 
philosophers, who lived about two centuries after 
the founder Lao-tzil, there are some striking 
statements. 

He says that for the sage * life means death to all that men 
think life, the life of seeming or reputation, of doing or .action, 
of being or individual selfhood.' n * He who clearly apprehends 
the scheme of existence does not rejoice over life, nor repine at 
death ; if he knows that terms are not final.' In other words, 
' life and death are but links in an endless chain.' 12 Life ia 
inevitable, for it 'comes and cannot be declined. It goes and 
cannot be stopped.' 13 The quick passage of life is thus ex- 
pressed : 'Man passes through this sublunary life as a white 
horse passes a crack. Here one moment, gone the next.' ^4 'The 
life of man is but as a stoppage at an inn.' 15 'The living are 
men on a journey.' !*• ' Life is a loan.' ^7 

Taoism borrowed largely from Buddhism, and 
developed its scheme of life and death, amplifying 
its descriptions of renewed lives, which are to 
succeed death itself.'* 

In the Epicurean Yang Chu's philosophy (c, 300 B.C.) life is 
to be lived for the possessor's own self and to be an expression 
of his individuality. There is to be a disregard of life and 
death ; life is of uiiportance only to him who lives it, and that 
solely during his brief existence.!" The Chinese have not followed 
this philosopher. 

Wang Ch'ung, who holds a mid positio'n between 
Confucianism and Taoism, was of the opinion that 
the dead do not become ghosts, and are unconscious,* 
and that ' sleep, a trance, and death are essentially 
the same.'*' 

He also says that 'human death is like the extinction of fire. 
... To assert that a person after death is still conscious is hke 
saying that an extinguished light shines again. . . . The soul 
of a dead man cannot become a body again.' — 

5. Buddhism. — For the general attitude of Bud- 
dhism as regards life and death see artt. Death .and 
Disposal of the Dead (Buddhist) and Kahma. 
It is, however, more than questionable whether 
esoteric Buddhism, with its metaphysical aspect 
towards the world of senses, has much or any hold 
on the mass of the people.'^ Accordingly, many of 

1 H. A. Giles, Chuang TzH, London, 1889, p. 86. 

2 lb. p. 433. 

3L. Wieger, Taoisme, Paris, 1911, i., Introd. p. l':;f. ; Legge, 
Texts of Taoism (SBE xxxix. [1891], Introd. p. 23 f.). 

4 See refutation of such ideas by Wang Ch'ung in A. Forke, 
Lun Heng, pt. i. (London, 1911) p. 346 ff. 

5 H. A. Giles, Chuang Tzu, p. 267 ; cf. Legge, SBE xxjdx. 22. 

6 L. Giles, Taoist Teachings, p. 21. 

7 lb. p. 22. 8 lb. p. 23. 
9 lb. p. 27. '° n. p. 29. 

11 H. A. Giles, Chuang Tzii, Introd. p. xx. 

12 lb. p. 203 ; see also p. 223 fl. 13 /(,. p. 229. 
14 lb. p. 285. 15 lb. p. 293. 
16 L. Giles, Taoist Teachings, p. 28. 

"H. A. Giles. Chuang Tzti, p. 224; c(. I^gge, SBE xxxix., 
Introd. p. 22, SBE xl. [1891] 6. 

18 See Legge, Religions of China, p. 1S9 ff. 

IS A. Forke, Yang Chu's Garden of Pleasure, p. 25 ; see also 
pp. 26f., 36, 39ff. 

20 See A. Forke, Lun H(ng, pt. i. p. 191 ff., pt. ii. 369 ff. 

21 n. i. 195. 22 /(,. j. 196. 

23 For Chinese Buddhism see art. China (Buddhism in) and 
the lit. there cited, to which may be added E. J. Eitel, Three 
Lectures on Buddhism^, Hongkong, 1873; J. Edkins, Religion 
in China-, London, 1878; J. Dyer Ball, Religious Asiicct ill 
CAi«a. 



IG 



LIFE AND DEATH (Christian) 



its votaries in the Northern branch ot" that religion 
believe in the glorious Paradise of the West, 
to which tlie souls of the believers in Amida 
(Amitabha) huddha can ascend and escape the 
long catena of lives and deaths supposed to be the 
lot of the aspirant to Nirvana on his weary road 
thither. 

To vie with its sister religion, Taoism evolved 
in its turn a nine-storeyed heaven with the Dragon 
King as ruler to await the arrival of pious souls. 

6. Conclusion. — Thus, with the multiplicity 
of lives to which Buddhism has accustomed the 
Chinese mind, death looms largely in the purview 
of life, not only to the Buddhist, but also to the 
Taoist and even the Confucianist ; for Buddhism 
has entered into the religious life of the whole 
people and tinctured their ideas and thoughts. 
The Chinese is practical in his outlook on life. He 
finds himself in the midst of it, he has to accept it, 
and his thoughts turn more naturally to what its 
outcome is to be than to its source and origin. 
More fantastic than his visions of his future are 
those of his past. With no inkling, for the most 
part, as to whence he came, he has given full play 
to his fancy to conjure up the origin of the human 
race.' One of the fairy-like tales of his mythology 
is that tlie vermin on the body of a colossal giant, 
who brought order out of chaos, were the progenitors 
of mankind ;- while in another account the moun- 
tains produced the lowest of the lower creation, 
and these, in turn, developed higher forms, culminat- 
ing in man, who was evolved from the ape.^ 

We find higher ideas in the ancient classics ; for, 
though covering but limited ground, the rudiment- 
ary knowledge of the .Supreme Being possessed by 
the ancient Chinese embraced the idea that He 
gave 'birth to the multitudes of the people,'^ so 
tliat in the State worship by the Emperors He has 
been addressed as the maker of heaven, earth, man, 
and all animate beings.' 
LlTKRATURE. — Authorities are cited in the footnotes. 

J. Dyer Ball. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Christian).— In pa.ssing 
from the OT view to that of the NT there is no 
abrupt or startling gap, although a delicate tact is 
conscious of a ditl'erence of atmosphere, and becomes 
aware that the elements common to both are not 
in the same proportion, and appear to have been 
subjected to some organic change in the later form. 
In the OT words denoting ' life ' occur in 166 pas- 
sages, and in the Apocrypha in 24 ; words denoting 
' death ' occur in 354 passages, and in the A[)o- 
cr5-pha in 33 ; on the other hand, in the NT words 
denoting 'life' occtir in 135 passages, and words 
denoting ' death ' in 128. In this quantitative 
analysis the striking fact is that death occupied 
the OT mind more predominantly than life. Quali- 
tatively taken, however, a striking difference at 
once appears. Life in the OT for the most part 
refers to existence here in the flesh, and compara- 
tively rarely rises above it, being summed up in the 
LXX phrase in Sir 37" : ' the life of man is in the 
number of his days.' Instances occur, of course, 
especially in the later Psalms and Wisdom litera- 
ture, of life being regarded as independent of 
bodily conditions, but these are to be treated as 
indications of a transition in thought to a higher 
plane, as a. prapriratio evangclicn. 

The significant feature of the NT allusions to 
life (and death) is their want of any real interest 
in mere earthly living, and this feature is plain 
even where the necessities of experience compel 

1 For the philosophical theory see art. Cosmoooxt and 
CosjiOLOOT (Cliinese). 

2 C(. J. Dyer Ball, Scraps/ram Chinese Muthology, annotated 
in China Keriew, ilonukong, 1872-1901, xi. 766f. 

» A. M. Kielde, A ComtrnJ Cathay, New York, 1894, p. 158 II. 
« Legge, lUligUmt ol China, p. 'tn. 
'lb. p. 47 ff. 



reference to the fact of physical death. Thus, out 
of the 135 pa.ss.ages where 'life' (iu-i;) occurs, not 
more than seven can be referred to physical life. 
In one (Lk 1") the text varies, and the life referred 
to might be heavenly. In Lk 16" tlie life of Dives 
is sharply contrasted with the life of Lazarus. 
Ac 8^ IS a quotation from the LXX ; Ac 17^ is 
inspired by Stoic thouglit. In Ko 8«», 1 Co 3*', 
ami Ph P', where life and death are conjoined as 
correlative powers, the reference may be to earthly 
life and death, but the probability is that in each 
case the meaning is tliat spiritual life and spiritual 
death face us. In the first passage it is invisible 
powers personified that are declared incapable 
of sundering the Christian from Christ ; in the 
second passage the words are equally patient of 
either meaning ; and in the third, if Theophylact 
may be followed,' the spiritual meaning prevails. 
Besides these ^even passages, the word ' life ' in 
the NT does not seem to be used anywhere in the 
lower sense. 

The case is diHerent m ith the term ' death ' 
{BdvaTos), for in something less than a score of 
passages in the Gospels, and in eight passages of 
Acts, the death of Jesus is referred to ; in nine 
passages of Heb. physical death, especially that of 
Jesus, is the subject ; and in Rev. ' death ' is per- 
sonified in conjunction with Hades, or is described 
as being followed by a second death, or is regarded 
as the term of this life. On the other hand, St. 
Paul and St. .John, with hardly an exception, 
when they refer to death at all, mean spiritual 
death, not physical. Our task is to examine the 
passages where the terms fw^ and ddvarot, or their 
cognates, occur in the N'T, in order to ascertain 
their precise meaning. 

I. Life. — (o) The first mode of expression for the 
' life ' which Christ gives is to be found in the use 
of the definite article. Examples of this are Mt 
7'*, ' straitened is the way that leadeth unto the 
life'; IS"'-, Mk 9«-«, 'to enter into the life 
maimed,' 'to enter into the life with one eye'; 
Mt 19'', ' thou wouldst enter into the life ' ; Jn 5"* 
(cf. Jn 3"), ' hath passed out of the death into the 
life ' ; 6*8, ' the bread of the life ' ; 8'^ ' shall have 
the light of the life': ll^" 14«, 'I am the life'; 
Ac 3'°, ' the prince of the life ' ; Ko 8", ' the law of 
the spirit of the life' ; 2 Co 4'-, ' the life worketh 
in you' ; 5*, ' the mortal may be swallowed up by 
the life'; 1 Ti 6'-, ' lay hold of the aeonian life'; 
1 Jn 1', ' the word of the life ' ; 5'-, ' he that hath 
the Son hath the life ' ; Rev 2'- •" 3= l.S*, ' the tree,' 
' the crown,' ' the book of the life ' ; 21°, ' the water 
of the life.' 

In all these cases the article is used in what grammarians 
call the anaphoric sense, by which the substantive is pointed 
to as reierrinfj to an object alre.'idy definitely known. Thus, 
in the instances *iiven the implication is that the life mentioned 
is that with which the readers were already familiar as the sub- 
ject of Evangelic preaching, and an object of their own religious 
experience. It is also implicitly contrasted with another and 
a lower kind of life — that of the natural man, of the man of 
this world (cf. F. W. Blass, Grammar of JVr Greei', London, 
1905, p. 146). 

(6) Life which is unreal and fleeting is set aside in 
favour of the life whicli is real and abiding : 1 Ti 4*, 
'life that is now and life which is to come' ; 6", 
' the life that really is.' 

(c) It is assigned a heavenly nature by a pre- 
dicative clause: Ro 5"*, 'we shall be saved by his 
[the Son's] life'; 2 Co 4'°'-, 'the life of Jesus'; 
Eph 4", ' the life of God ' ; 2 Ti 1', ' life that is in 
Christ Jesus ' ; 1 Jn 5", ' the life in his Son.' 

id] The characteristic NT expression qualifying 
life, however, is 'ieonian,' rendered in AV 'ever- 
lasting' 24 times, and 'eternal' 42 times, but both 
terms are misleading, as giving a quantitative in- 

1 'A kind of new life I live, and Christ is all things to me, 
breath and life and light '(see BL R. Vincent, 'Philippians and 
Philemon.' ICC, 1897, in toco). 



LIFE AND DEATH (Christian) 



17 



stead of a quiilitative category. ' yEonian ' as an 
adjective occurs in all 71 times in the NT, and in 
43 of these it qualities 'life.' These passages (in 
addition to 17 in the Fourth Gospel) are iMt lO'"' '-" 
25* iMk 10"- '■">, Lk lU-^ 18'«- '", Ac 13«- ^, Ro 2' 5=' 
6=2'-, Gal 08, 1 Ti li« 6^-, Tit P 3', 1 Jn V 2-' 3" 
511. 13. 2o_ jude si^ In all these passages it is not 
the duration of the life that is in question, but its 
nature and its source. Hence, tliough the render- 
ing 'eternal' may be permissible, that of 'ever- 
lasting' is erroneous, and even 'eternal' can be 
allowed only where eternity is understood as by 
Boethius : 

' Whatsoever, therefore, eoniprehendeth and possesseth the 
whole plenitude of unlimited life at once, to which nought of 
the future is wanting, and from which nought of the past hath 
flowed away, this may rightly be deemed eternal ' {Phil. CoiisoL, 
V. prosa 6 [PL Ixiii. 859J ; ct. Dante, Parad. xxii. 61-69). 

It is in the prominence given to this view of life 
that we are to find the superioi'ity of the NT 
teaching on it over that of the OT. 

The transition from the sense of ' aionian ' in the 
LXX (where it [or its cognates] is used about 330 
times) to its sense in the NT is of the nature of an 
evolution. The NT sense of 'spiritual,' or 'divine,' 
is not wanting in the OT,' yet the more usual 
sense of the term is tliat of duration. Out of this 
lower sense there grailually unfolds, at lirst tenta- 
tively, but at length surely and fully, the ground 
on which duration rests, viz. the possession of an 
essence which is superior to the category of time. 
What endures is that of which time is but the 
changing expression, and the great gift of Christ is 
seen to consist in the power which He confers of 
escaping from the jurisdiction of ' the prince of the 
power of the air ' into the higher realm where the 
' aeon ' or the ' reonian ' king rules. 

The use of the terra ' feon ' in the NT is im- 
portant for our present purpose ; for, in addition 
to the passages in which the temporal meaning of 
the term is requirftd, there are a number which 
are ambiguous, and also a further numljer where 
' aeon ' is certainly used in a personal sense. Differ- 
ent ages, or different regions of the universe, are 
placed by God under tlie control of rulers to whom 
the name of ' seon ' is given. In Ac 15'* the 
rendering should in all probability be ' God maketli 
these things known from oeon.' So in Ac 3-' and 
Lk 1™ the prophets are said to receive their in- 
spiration 'from oeon.' The sense of Jn 9'" is best 
reached by paraphrasing it : ' From the realm of 
the ajon the news has not been heard of anybody 
opening the eyes of a man born blind.' In Eph 2^ 
no question can be raised, for the ' aeon of this 
world ' there is clearly a personal being, since he is 
given as a sub-title ' the prince of the power of 
the air.' In 1 Ti 1" God is distinguished as the 
'King of the seous.' In Col 1-° the revelation 
given to the saints is exalted above that given to 
the aeons. The latter knew nothing of the mystery 
of the indwelling Christ, the hope of glory. The 
knowledge of this was the prerogative of tlie saints. 
In 2 E 3'* the ' day of seen ' can be nothing but 
the ' day of the Lord,' and hence the teon here 
is Jesus (cf. also He 1^ 1 Co 10", Gal l^ and the 
appendix to Mk in the Freer-logion). 

When we remember that Christianity grew up iu a Gnostic 
environment, that among the Gnostics the doctrine of personal 
aeons was universal, and that 1 Clem. 35, Origen (c. Celsinn, vi. 
31), Ignatius (Eph. 19), Clem. Alex. (Strom, iv. 13), Irenaius 
(Hmr. i. 17), and Hippolytus (Ref. vi. 26) all refer to the 
doctrine explicitly as worthy of note and demanding correction, 
we shall not be surprised if echoes of it are found within the 
Canon. Further, the same fluidity of meaning which attaches 
to the use of the term outside the Canon attaches to it also 
within the Canon. Omitting temporal si^iniiicance as too 
general to need exemplification, it is enough to say that the 
word ' eeon ' may stand for a superhuman being who is good or 

1 e.g., in Ec 3U we are told that God has placed the seen in 
the heart of man, i.e., has given hira a seed of a higher order 
of being. 

VOL. VIII. — 2 



evil, supreme or subordinate. Hippolytus (He/, iv. 2) mentions 
speculators who ' speak of a sedition of sons and of a revolt of 
good powers to evil, and of a concord of good and wicked ajons.' 
Irenasus (H(er. i. 1) relates that the Valentinians taught the 
existence of 'a certain perfect, pre-existent aion whom they call 
Proarche, Propator, and Bythos.' So Epictetus (ii. 6) saj s : ' I 
am not God (ceoti) but man,' and, therefore, mortal ; and pseudo- 
Dionysius {de Div. Norn. v. 4) says: 'God is called Arche and 
Measure of ^ons and Essence of Times and ^Eon of things 
that are . . . for He is the a;on of feons, He that is before all 
sons.' The Valentinians further taught, according to Irenteus, 
that the supreme /Eon emanated eight sons, the ogdoad, and 
these ten others, after which twelve more were produced, 
making thirty in all ; they also saw in the visit of Jesus to the 
Temple wlien lie was twelve years old, and in His baptism 
when He was tliirty, a cryptic reference to the system of icons. 
R. Reitzenstein (Polmandr<:s, Leipzig, 1904, p." 270) quotes a 
Hermetic hymn addressed to Isis as the moon-goddess in w hich 
it is said: 'Thou art the beginning and the end, and thou 
rulest over all, for of thee are all things and to (thee as) (eon 
do they run as to their end.' So in the Hermetic tractate Mind 
unto Hertnes, 2, it is said : ' God makes seon, the :eon makes 
the world, the world makes time, time makes generation.* 
Here ' teon ' is the name of the ideal principle which ultimately 
takes form in the world of becoming. Similarly, Plato (Tim. 37) 
says : ' When the father and creator saw the creature which he 
had made moving and living, the created image of the eternal 
gods (ruif aiSitiiv deCj^'X he rejoiced, and in his joy determined 
to make the copy still more like the original ; and, as this was 
eternal (atStov), he sought to make the universe eternal, so far 
as might be.' In this passage, where Plato wants to express 
the idea of everlastingness, he has the word atSios ready to his 
hand. But, when he goes on to express a different idea, he 
uses a different term (aiwctos) : ' Now the nature of the ideal 
being was Ionian (atuji/cos), but to bestow this attribute in its 
fullness ou a creature was impossible. Wherefore he resolved to 
make a mo\ing image of the aion (atdivo?), and, setting in order 
at the same time the heaven, he made this aaonian image of the 
aion abiding in unity (/itt-oi'Tos aiiln-os) [an image that in itself 
was ajonian] to move in accordance with number ; and this 
image we call time." In the latter passage, as is obvious, Plato 
is dealing with the qiialLty of the archety]ml order, and, there- 
fore, he uses the word aiwctos. In the former passage he was 
dealing with a cate<;ory of qxiantity, and, accordingly, he 
employed the word ii'Sio?, 'everlasting.' J. AAum (Vitality of 
Ptatonism, Cambridge, 1911, p. 35 f.) translates aiwi'09 in Pindar 
(fr. 131, ed. Bergk)asthe 'living man,' and says that it never 
means ' eternity ' in Pindar. The passage is i<Zov 5" €ti AeiVerat 
aXCivQ^ eiSwAor- rb yap etrrt fj.6vov Ik Qet^v {cf. II. xix. 27). Plato'3 
antithesis of ffion and time reappears in Philo (ed. T. Mangey, 
London, 1742, i, 496), who makes the three first days of creation, 
before sun and moon were created, an im.age of ' son ' and the 
last three of time, 'for He set the three days before the sun for 
the a;on, and the three after the sun for time, which is a copy 
of aeon.' Similarly, he says (i. 619) that ' the life of the intel- 
ligible world is called ieon, as that of the sensible is called time.' 

The question whether ' ieon ' and ' a'oniau ' are 
to be rendered qualitatively or quantitatively is 
not identical with the question whether a Jewish 
or Greek conception is the determinant, for the 
Hellenizatiou of Christianity was .active, even if 
not in its acute form, from the earliest NT days. 
Greek thought had penetrated Jewish before NT 
times (W. Bousset, Die Relitjion des Judentums im 
neutest. Zeitalier, Berlin, 1903, p. 493 ; cf. 'seonian 
torment,' in 4 Mac 9' ; ' aeonian life ' in Enoch 10'° ; 
'judgment of the ;eon of icons,' 10'-; 'tlie King 
of the a;on,' 27'), and is embedded in the NT itself. 
Moreover, the Rabbinical antithesis of ' this world ' 
and ' that \vorld ' lay on the border-line of Greek 
thought, and might pass easily into it. The wit- 
ness of Philo must be added to that of the Synoptic 
Gospels (with their many isolated sa3ings redolent 
of Greek thought and their record of the teaching 
of a mystery-religion), the Fourth Gospel as a 
whole, Eph. and Col., and the constant tendency 
of the Greek in St. Paul to burst its Jewish fetters. 
We conclude, therefore, that 'a'onian life' in the 
NT is life tliat belongs to a higher order than 
animal or ordinary human life ; it is from above, 
and the recipient of it is lifted, by possessing it, 
into a higher state of consciousness. It is not this 
present life indefinitely or infinitely prolonged, nor 
is it life beyond the grave distinguished as such 
from life on this side of the grave. 

It is not possible here to do more than allude to 
the central place which the fact and truth of 
regeneration (7. i'.) occupy in the religion of Jesus 
Christ. All that is required is a reminder of the 
close connexion of regeneration with the jeonian 



18 



LIFE AND DEATH (Christian) 



life which forms the thoiiie of the NT. To be 
born from above {ifuBtv, .In 3^) ; to be turned and 
to become as little childvon (Mt IS") ; to come out 
into the resurrection of lite (Jn 5-"); to put ou 
Christ (Gal 3^) ; to be quickened together with 
Christ (Eph '2") ; to be in Christ (2 Co 5") ; to put 
on tlie new man (Eph 4-*); to be a new creature 
(Gal C") — these and many similar passages describe 
tliat dynamic process of whieli the result Is a^onian 
life, or salvation, or the Kin<^dom of God, or 
blessedness. 

2. Death. — Christian theology has been at once 
oppressed atui confused by its failure to note that 
in the NT it i.s not physical life cleared of its 
experienced ills that is called life, and that it is 
not pliysical death as such that is connected with 
sin. (1) Reflexion would assure us that, when life 
is used in a super-physical sense, it is at least 
proliable that the death referred to is always some- 
thin.L.' more than the death which dissolves the 
connexion between the self and its physical vehicle. 
If one be of tlie transcendental order, so must the 
other be. (2) It lias never been easj' to maintain 
a causal nexus between sin as a wrong act of will 
and death as an event of the natural order. Modern 
science has convinced itself that ileath has reigned 
not only since Adam's tr.an.sgression, but from the 
first appearance of life. Death indeed, apart from 
sin, is a process of nature and not a supernatural 
punishment for sin. (3) Christianity is admittedly 
a religion whose home is in the spiritual order, and 
its interest, therefore, in the physical, though real, 
is only indirect. From its superior standpoint it 
may have something to say as to the origin and 
meaning of physical death, but, if it speaks of 
death as intimately bound up with its own life, 
that death will not be of the physical order. (4) 
The law of analogy points in the same direction. 
A principle which is operative on one level rejieats 
itself analogously at other levels. Just as gravity 
may be described without straining as love em- 
bryonic in matter, or, conversely, as love in the 
spiritual world exercises an attraction which binds 
spiritual beings as surely as gravity binds together 
atoms, so death as physical is a reflexion of a 
similar principle in the world where life is life 
indeed. (5) All philosophy assures us of the exist- 
ence of an intinite principle or truth in the finite 
event or fact, of the existence of a universal in the 
particular. But a physical death is a fact in the 
world of space and time ; hence it conceals what 
is more than a fact — a truth or idea, or a fragment 
of reality presented under the guise of the actual. 
If, therefore, a religion which proclaims itself as 
having the real for its object speaks of death, or 
attributes to death any place in its world, it cannot 
be supposed to limit its reference to the death 
which is merely physical. 

It will be found on examination tliat the con- 
clusion thus reached « priori is confirmed by a 
careful scrutiny of the evidence. (<t) We may 
conveniently begin with passa,L;es in which death 
is obviously treated as acting in the sjiiritual 
sphere. The following passages in the Fourth 
Gospel may be cited : ' He liatli jiassed out of the 
death into the life' (5"; cf. 1 Jn 3"); 'If a man 
keep my word, he shall never see death ' (8'") ; in 
ch. 11 the difficulty caused by the .-ipparent in- 
difierence of Jesus in the beginning, by the refer- 
ence to sleep, and by I lie aflirmation tliat the 
believer should never die can be fairly met only by 
the hypothesis that the story in form moves on the 
physical plane, but that in substance it is the story 
of the resun-ection of the .soul from spiritual death ; 
the reference to the manner of death in 12"^ is con- 
tained in what is certainly a gloss. In 1 Jn we 
have similar references to spiritual death : ' lie 
that loveth not abideth in the death' ('A'*), where 



the death is clearly on the same plane of being as 
love ; in 5'" the sin unto death (or not unto death) 
is also clearly a sin which is followed by death 
of the same order, viz. in tlie world of free will, 
for it is said in explanation that God will give life 
for them that sin not unto death — a sentence 
which is meaningless if physical life is meant, 
since that is ex lii/pothcsi there already. In 
Rev. the second death, which is spiritual, is dis- 
tinguished from the first death, which is pliysical 
(2" 20''- ^* 21"). 

In the Fpp. al.sn many passages occur in which 
death must be interpreted as spiritual. In Ko P- 
St. I'aul, speaking not as a Jurist but as a preacher 
(cf. W. Sanday and A. C. lleadlam, Jiomans^, 
Edinburgh, 1903, ad loc), sets up an ideal standard 
with ideal consequences for violation of it. Those 
who outrage ''he plainly expressed mind of God as 
to what righteousness is do so with the full know- 
ledge that they deserve death ('und meint damit 
den ewigen Tod' [H. A. W. Meyer, iJir Brief an 
die Bonier, ed. B. Weiss', Gottingen, IS'.I'J, ad loc.]). 
In the striking i)assage Ko 5'^"-', unless St. Paul 
is guilty of inexcusable logical confusion, the death 
which in vv."- -' is obviously spiritual must be 
of the same kind in vv.'^- '•*. The current exegesis 
which assumes such looseness of thought in St. 
Paul is itself responsible for the confusion. The 
meaning is simple, plain, and consistent through- 
out : Adam was guilty of a sin which was spiritual 
in its character, being a misuse of free will ; there- 
fore he brought on himself spiritual death, and this 
death has atllicted mankind ever since. But now 
at last the Christ of God, by Himself entering into 
vital union with a race self-deprived of the higher 
life, that is, by sharing in some sense their loss, 
has restored what they had lost ; He has, that is, 
obeyed the law that only through death do we 
enter into life. The death He has undone is that 
which consists in the absence of spiritual life ; and 
the death He has borne is that which consists in the 
process of taming the lower nature, in the process 
of the mystic crucifixion. The one lost aeonian life 
by self-will ; the other gained it by obedience, and 
gave it through love. 

Similarly, the linking of bapti.sm with Christ's 
death and life in Ko 6 is explicable only if it is 
a?onian life and a-onian death that are in question, 
and the best proof of this view is to be found in 
the difficulties into which exegesis has long been 
implicated through its mistaken assumption that 
the life and death referred to are physical. Hence 
it has to say that St. Paul's ' thought glides 
backwards and forwards from the dilierent senses 
of "life" and "death" almost imperceptibly' 
(Sanday-Headlam on C). But, from the facts 
that Christ's death w as transacted in the spiritual 
order, that baptism in its genuine meaning was a 
moment in a dynamic process, that the life which 
Christ truly lived was an ajonian life, it follows 
that, the life being the same both in the Lord and 
in His disciples, they both were united in the mystic 
Vine, since one and the same life was in it and in 
its branches. Therefore, St. Paul concludes, since 
it is now ffionian life that rules in both Christ 
and His members, death is automatically excluded. 
While 'the seed abideth' in the believer, he not 
only does not sin, but he cannot sin ; or, if he sins, 
the sin is proof that the life is not yet dominant. 

The argument in Ko 7 is similar. Using the 
image of marriage being valid for life, St. Paul 
says that the natural man has l.nv for a husband 
and sin for his child, and sin in turn begets death, 
i.e. spiritual death (v."). This sjiiritual death is in 
turn undone by the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus 
(8^). We are given even an exact definition of 
death as being identical with the mind of the (lesh, 
and of lifeas Deing spiritual-mindedness (8'). 



LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian) 



19 



Even tl'.e lamuii;^ ^jassage in 1 Co 15 is given 
a coherent meaning only when tiie thought of 
spiritual life and spiritual death is kept in the 
foreground. It is true that here the thought is 
less pure, and that the physical death of Christ and 
His resurrectiou from physical death are made the 
proofs of the reality of the heavenly order. But, 
even so, it is not the physical resurrection that is 
the vital point, but the spiritual, of which the 
physical is but an expression. The argument is as 
follows. To be still in your sins is death ; faith, 
however, when it comes, annuls this (spiritual) 
death, for it is essentially life. This living faith 
(the life of God in the soul) is what filled Christ, 
and constituted His title to the higher state of 
being, as is proved by the fact that He overcame 
(spiritual) death ; the proof that He did so over- 
come spiritual death is to be seen in the fact that 
He could not be holden hj physical death. Hence 
death in both senses is abolished, or is in the pro- 
cess of being abolished, but the death which is the 
enemy is spiritual, and, if physical death comes 
into question at all, it is incidental only or by way 
of illustration. That this is the true interpretation 
becomes clear when we observe that the remainder 
of the chapter (vv.^"**) is concerned only witli 
affirming that this higher sjiiritual, or risen, life 
will require a cognate spiritual body, and that as 
God gave the life so He will give the suitable 
body. 

(6) There are, however, unquestionably many 
passages in the NT which seem, on the surface at 
all events, to refer exclusivelj- to a physical death. 
They are those which in the Gospels (12 times) and 
the Acts (8 times) deal with the death of Jesus 
Christ. But even here a sound exegesis will com- 
pel us to distinguish between what is said and 
what is signified. What is said is that Jesus 
suffered physical death at the hands of the civil 
and ecclesiastical a^jithorities of His day. What is 
signified is that His sufferings as witnessed had a 
hidden counterpart and a universal validity because. 
He being a heavenlj- subject, what He experienced 
in strong crying and tears affects all who are united 
to Him as a transcendental subject by being made 
sharers of His life, partakers of His divine nature. 
What is signified is that His crucifi.Kion is a mystic 
process before it takes shape in the moment of a 
physical deatli, and that this process of crucifixion, 
therefore, goes on necessarily in all those who are 
made one witli His life (Gal 5^ 6"). WHiat is 
signified is that the physical death and burial of 
Christ are a reflexion of a spiritual death and 
burial which lie underwent in order that He might 
be a radiating centre of heavenly life to all men. 
The real death and burial are to be found in tlie 
Konian world ; the death and burial that fall under 
history are shadows of the real. 

The Epistle to the Hebrews also refers explicitly 
to the physical death and sufferings, but here we 
must allow for the exigencies of the line of argu- 
ment adopted. This compelled the autlior to place 
the physical death of the man Christ Jesus over 
against the physical death of the animals slain in 
OT sacrifices. Yet, even so, the force of the argu- 
ment depends on tlie superior worth of the former. 
His sacrifice was all-compelling, partly because it 
was voluntary (7" 9'"- 10"), still more because of 
its transcendent worth, it being the ottering of One 
whose life was divine, and made in accordance 
with the power of an indissoluble life (7'*) and 
through an oeoni.an spirit (g'-"). The life, we may 
say, that even here is dealt \\ith is essentially 
spiritual, and is physical only in a secondary and 
subordinate sense. 

(c) A third and small class of passages alone 
remains where death is of an ambiguous appear- 
ance. In Kev 11^ G' 9>^ 'iO'"- Death is personified 



and joined with Hadet, and butli may attack man 
on Ids physical or on his spiritual side. In Mt 4"> 
and Lk 1™ the shadow of death falls across the 
heathen world, where spiritual death is surely 
meant. In Mt 16=», Mk 0', and Lk 9=' contem- 
jjoraries of Jesus, it is said, should not taste of 
deatii till they saw the Kingdom of God. It is 
impossible to say what was the original context of 
this triplicated passage, but it is improbable that 
the passage itself is to be regarded as a falsified 
prophecy of a historical fact. The ' Kingdom of 
God ' and the ' Son of Man ' are terms which ex- 
press inner realities, and it is at least likely, then, 
that 'death' is also Ionian. In this case the 
meaning of the passage is that there were some (a 
' remnant,' the few who were ' chosen ') who would 
not taste the bitterness of spiritual death, because 
to them would be vouchsafed the mystic vision of 
the King in His beauty, of the land that to most 
men remains far off. 

It will be clear, from what has been said, that 
the NT and Christian antithesis is not that of the 
OT and Judaism, between this world and the next, 
but between two kinds of life botli here and there. 
It is a qualitative and not a quantitative difference. 
On one side is the life of sense, of intellect, of 
static foims, of fixed perceptions and well-defined 
conceptions — the life, in short, whose boundaries 
are set by the practical needs of the empirical Ego. 
On the other side is the life which creates the very 
power by which sense and intellect discharge their 
limited functions, which is in itself defiant of 
forms, is only partially grasped by perceptions, 
and for the most part remains outside conceptions 
— the life, in short, which Jesus came to reveal and 
to give, which is called ajonian, or spiritual, or 
heavenly, or divine, and is that ever-flowing stream 
from the life of God of which all expressions of life 
are at all levels fragmentary flashes. We pass 
from the fragment towards the complete and per- 
fect in exact proportion to our surrender of oui- 
lower and separated self to the life of the whole, 
which is God. It is this enhanced life and ex- 
panded consciousness that the religion of Jesus 
Christ and His Church is primarily concerned 
with. Its interest in eschatology, in theories about 
resurrection, in hypotheses such as that of nniver- 
salism, of conditional immortality, of the nature of 
the ultimate union of soul and body, or of re- 
incarnation, though real, is subordinate only. It 
is concerned with a higher life experienced here 
and now, and to grow hereafter more and more 
towards the perfect day. It is interested in 
theories about that life, but its interest in them is 
not vital. 

Literature.— Boethius, PhilosopMce Consolatio ; Angrustine, 
Can/es^wm, esp. bks. x., xi., xiii. ; Aquinas, Stciu. i. qn. s. 
artt. 4-6; Philo, (^uod Deus mV inunut., esp. §6 (Mang^ey, 
p. 277) ; D. Petavius, de Deo Dcique propr. iii. 3, 4, and esp. 
notes to pp. 25S-260, ed. L. Gut-rin. Bar-le-Duc, vol. i., 1864 ; 
Gre^. Naz. Orat. 38 ; John Damascene, de Fide orihod., hv.. 
ii. ch. i. ; Alcuin, Ep. 162, in I'L, c. 419 ; F. D. E. Schleier- 
macher, Itedtn (1799), Gottingen, 1906 ; C. v. Orelli, Die heb. 
St/n. der Zeit und Ewiiikeit, Leipzig, 1871 ; W. W. Harvey, 
5. Iretwi adv. Ht^r., Cambridge. 1657, esp. his 'Preliminary 
Observations'; F. von Hiigrel, KUniat Life, Edinburgh, 1912'; 
W. R. Alger, Crit. Hist, of the Doctrine of a Future Lifc'^", 
New York, 1S78, with copious bibliography. 

W. F. Cobb. 
LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian).— The Egyp- 
tian conceptions of life and death seem at first 
sight to be full of inexplicable contradictions. No 
wonder is felt when these states are found to be 
alternately praised and execrated, for in such 
praise and execration personal preferences are 
involved, and these may vary. But it is more 
perplexing to find diametrically opposite views 
expressed or implied witii regard to questions of 
fact or belief, as when the same being is described 
almost in one breath both as alive and as dead, or 
when men who fear the dead are ^een to have used 



so 



LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian) 



magical nieflii?; to kill their enpmie~, tliiiiking lluis 
to be rid of them. Suili inconsi!.tencie.s arise from 
the blending of the simple distinction between 
physical life and death with the extremely ancient 
ana almost universal belief in immortality— a belief 
that is rooted partly in the passionate abhorrence 
which death insiiires as an indijinity inflicted upon 
the living,' and partly in the fact that death is 
known to us only through observation of the 
external world, and not by conscious inner ex- 
perience. 

Life and death are facts, since they are ever 
being forced upon our notice ; death is a false- 
hood, however, because we have never known it 
to be true of ourselves, and, furthermore, because 
we will not admit that it can be true of ourselves. 
But, if after the physical death wc ;.ro not dead, 
then we must be alive. The words 'life' and 



y cone), ' to become,' '(omc into existence.' For 
' death ' there are various euphemistic expressions, 
Bucli as hpyt or svd\, ' passing away,' mini, 
'reaching port'; 'my dying day' is once ex- 
pressed by hnv n/rnl Im, ' the day on wliich it 
went well with me' {Spliin.,; iv. [IflOl] 16) : the 
phrase -iht r l»i]h, 'to attain to beatitude,' is 
ambiguous, .sometimes referring to liononrcd old 
age and sometimes to death. The dead are de- 
scribed as tit.iw lin, 'tliose who .are yonder,' or as 
b',(j!;/ v>i!/ir, 'the weary ones.' Theological is the 
])hrase * ra k]-/, ' to go to one's kn, or double ' ; so, 
too, are the wftrds I'J/i, 'glorified being,' s',k, 
' noble,' and /i.?y, ' blessed,' applied to the illustri- 
ous dead. Two epithets that from tlie early 
Middle Kingdom onwards are appended to the 
names of dead persons reflect, tlie one the identifi- 
cation of the dead with Osiris, and the other the 



A. FORMS OF THE HIEROGLYPHIC SIGN 

FOR '/>ft (life) 




B. THE OBJECT 'nh (SANDAL-STRINQS) AND SANDAL FROM 

THE FOOT-END OF MIDDLE KINGDOM COFFINS 




C. SOME SANDALS AS SHOWN ON OLD KINGDOM MONUMENTS 






From an ivory tablft of Kinj; Den (W. M. F. Petrie, The iJoj/a? Tombs of the First Dj/naslii, London, 1900, i. pi. 14). 
^ ' " ~ .. - . - ^^^^ 



Elaborate form of hieroglyph in Old Kingdom inscriptions (Margaret A. Murrav, Safjgara MasUibas, I^ondon, 1905, pi. 11, 
fig. 86). 

3. Simplified form of hieroglyph (Petrie, Medunt, London, 1892, pi. 14). 

4. J. Garstang, The Burial Customs of Ancient Egypt, London, 1907, pi. 6, opposite p. 168 ; over the sandal-strings the original 

has the superscription, ' the two 'h^ (sandal-strings) under his feet.' 
6. H. Schiifer, i'rirstergraber vom Totentewpel de^ ye-user-rf, Leipzig, 1908, p. 54. 

6. From the slate-palette of Narnier, 1st dj n. (,T. E. Quibell, Hierakonpolis, i., Ixindon, 1900, pi. 29). 

7. N. de G. Davies, Deir el Gehrdivi, London, 1902_, i. pi. 11, completed from ii. pi. C. 

5. F. W. von Bissing, Die Mastaha des Gem-7ii-kai, Berlin, 1905, i. pi. IC. 
9. Davies, The Rock Tombs of Shi^ikh Said, London, 1901, i. pi. 16. 



' death ' thus both acquire a dotible meaning;, and 
a wide field for speculation opens out ; the achieve- 
ments of the Egyptians within this field have here 
to be considered. 

1. Philological. — AVherca.s the E^-ptian word 
for 'to die,' mwt, Coptic Moy (infinitive), mooyt 
(qualitative), is sliared with all the Semitic lan- 
guages, the verb for 'to live," n/i, Coptic toNj, toNc', 
is of doubtful affinities. Several derivatives from 
the same .stem, such as 'nh, 'sandal-string,' 'nh, 
'goat,' '7ih, 'ear,' fail to suggest any earlier or 
more concrete meaning for it, while other words 
having the same radical letters, such ns'nh, ' oath ' 
(Coptic AN&y), or'ji/i, ' mirror,' clearly derive their 
meaning from 'nh, ' to live.' Closely related in 
sense are the verbs u-nn, ' to exist,' and hpi- (Coptic 

1 See particularly R. Hertz, ' La Representation' collective de 
la mort,' in ASoc x. [1905-00] 124. 



belief in immortality; these are m','-!jrtv, 'the 
ju.stified,'' and whm 'nh, 'who repeats life,' re- 
spectively. The deceased Pharaoh was called ' the 
great God,' like his great prototype Osiris, while 
the living king is ' the good god.' 

2. Writing and figured representation. — (a) The 
symbol of life, whicli is also the hieroglyph used 
for writing the words 'life' and 'live,' is the 



nown as 



so-called crux ansata, "r, popularly k 

the 'ankh ('nh), or 'key of life.' Its origin ha-s 
been much discussed, most scholars agreeing that 
the sign represents a tie or knot of some kind, 
though in A . Loret's opinion (Sphinx, v. [1902] 138) 
it depicts a mirror, 'fhe true explanation, hinted 
at but immediately rejected by G. Daressy {liTAP 
1 Sec art. Ethics a.so Mobalitt (Egyptian), § 7. 



LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian) 



21 



xxvi. [1904] 130), was first eunneiated by Battis- 
conibe Giinu, who proves the symbol to depict the 
strings or straps of the sandal. 

No demonstration of Gunn's discovery (acknowledged by 
A. Erman in his Agyptische Gi-anunatik'^, Berlin, 1911, p. viii) 
has yet found its way into print : the crucial evidence in the 
following argumentation has been siippiied by Gunn himself. 
There is an object called 'Ȥ, exactly resembling the symbol 
and hieroi^lyph for ' life,' which is often represented pair-wise 
at the foot-end of Middle Kingdom cofflns. These coffins are 
covered with pictures of articles deemed necessary for the 
happiness of the dead in the after-life, and care is taken in 
roost cases to place each object in its appropriate po.sition as 
regards the body of the dead man within the cotlin ; thus 
neciilaces are shown on the level of his neck, sceptres within 
reach of his band, and so forth. A priori, therefore, it is to 
be concluded that the object was connected with the feet — a 
point clinched by the fact that a pair of these objects is usually 
shown next one or more pairs of sandals, while the other 
articles depicted (anklets, bowls for washing, etc.) are more 
'or less clearly connected with the feet (see J. Garstang, Bnriol 
Customs of Anc. Egypt, London, 1907, pi. 6, opposite p. ICS ; 
P. Lacau, 'Sarcophages antirieurs au nouvel empire, Paris, 1904, 
no. 2S03-1 [p. 90 f.] • H. Schafer, Prieslergrdber, Leipzig, 190S, 
fig. 73 [p. 6J), S3 [p. 69], and pi. 11). In several instances the 
accompanying inscriptions describe the pair of objects as ' the 
two 'nlf on the ground under his feet' (cf. Garstang, loc. cit.; 
lACau, ii. 15S ; the preposition 'under' must not be pressed 
too closely, but it at least shows that the 'nj was part of, or 
belonged in some way to, the sandals). If now we compare the 



f¥" wi 



object "T" with the representation of the sandals, we shall see 

that the same elements enter into both — the long loop that 
passes round the ankle, the straps that serve to bind this loop 
to the sides of the sandal, and possibly a kind of ribbed bow or 
buckle. It is difficult to make the representations harmonize 
in detail, but, remembering that the sign is a very old one, 
that the modes of binding the sandal to the foot vary greatly, 
and that possibly the sign depicts the straps not as actually 
worn but laid out in such a way as to exhibit them to the best 
advantage, we shall hardly doubt that the objects shown on 
the Middle Kingdom coffins and called 'ni are a spare pair of 
siindal-strings for use in the event of those attached to the 
sandals requiring to he replaced. The cut on the preceding 
page depicts various examples of the sandal-strings both as an 
article of use and as a hieroglyph, together with piotm-es of 
sandals tor comparison; the hieroglyph is normally painted 
black. 

There being no ol^vious connexion between the 
idea of life and that of sandal-strings, it must be 
supposed that the idea of life, not being itself 
susceptible of pictorial representation, was sym- 
bolized by au obj'ect the name of which fortuitously 
coincided in sound with the word for 'life'; this 
procedure is merely the procedure called ' phonetic 
transference,' extremely common in hieroglyphic 
writing. 

It is, of course, possible that '?;(» (,'ankh ?), ' sandal-slrings' =-"cl 
'nl^{\iiikh1'), 'life '(the vowel in both cases is hypotlietic), are 
ultimately connected etymologically, but, as said above, the 
original meaning of the stem "nj is unknown. It would cer- 
tainly be wrong to advance the hypothesis that the sandal- 
strings were called 'nft because they resembled the symbol tor 
life, the origin of that symbol itself being regarded as undis- 
coverable. The evidence of the earliest writing (the absence 
of the stroke-detcvminative') shows that the 'anhli-sign was 
regarded as a phonetic and not as a pictorial sign. 

As a symbol the 'ankh is everywhere to be found 
on the Egyptian monuments. Gods and goddesses 
hold it in their hands, or present it to the nose of 
tlieir favourites. It appears with arms supjiortin;; 
a standard (e.g., E. Naville, The Temple of Deir d- 
Bahari, v., London, 1906, pi. 149) or as itself re- 
presenting the legs of a human figure (Louvre, 
15) ; such religious representations have still to 
be collected and classified. As a mere oruamentiil 
device the 'ankh-s\gn is frequently found on furni- 
ture, jewellery, etc., often in association with other 

auspicious symbols, e.g., "¥■ ]T 1. ''Ue, stability, 

and prosperity.' As an aiiiulei- tiie 'ankh is fairly 
common, and is usually made of greeu or blue 
faience. 

(h) There is no corresponding syuibul for ' death.' 

Tlie words 'death' and 'to die' are in early times 

followed (or 'determined,' to use the teclinical 

expression) by a sign representing a man fallen 

1 Except where ' the symbol life' is meaiii.. 



ujion his knees, and bleeding from a wound on the 
head ; later this sign is merged into another of 
widerapplication and varying form — the commonest 

form is ^h" — which accompanies various words 



meaning ' prisoner' or ' enemy.' Very often, how- 
ever, these hieroglyphs are mutilated or suppressed 
because of their ill-omened associations (ZA li. 
[1914] 19). 

3. Literal views of life and death. — How life was 
envisaged may best be learned from the following 
wishes on behalf of a dead man : 

' May there be given to thee thy eyes to see, thy ears to hear 
what is spoken ; thy mouth to speak, and thy feet to walk. 
May thy bands and arms move, anc! thy flesh be firm. May thy 
members be pleasant, and mayest thou have joy of all thy 
limbs. Mayest thou scan thy flesh (and find it) whole and sound, 
^\il!tout any blemish upon tfaee ; thy true heart being with 
thee, even the heart that thou didst have heretofore ' (K. Setbe, 
Urkunden des agyp. Altertums, Leipzig, 1904-09, iv. 114 f .). 

Death is the negation of life ; in slaying their 
foes, the Egyptians sought to make them ' as though 
tliey had never been ' ( Urkanden, iv. 7, a,nApassim), 
and the custom of cutting off their hands and phalli 
indicates of what activities it was intended to 
deprive them. Further light is thrown on these 
materialistic conceptions of life and death in a 
passage of the 175th chapter of the Book of the Dead, 
where the state of death is described : 

' Of a truth it is without water, it is without air — deep, dark, 
and void, a place where one lives in quietude. Pleasure of love 
is not there to be had, nay, but beatitude is given to me in 
lieu of water and air and love, quietude in lieu of bread and 
beer.' 

Inertia is the chief characteristic of the dead, 
wherefore they were called ' the weary,' ' the inert ' 
(§ I) ; elsewhere we find death compared with sleep 
(e.g.. Pyramid Texts, ed. Sethe, Leipzig, 190S, 
721). Life, on the other hand, is full of activity, 
and chief among its needs are air to breathe 
('breatli of life' is a common expression) and 
food and drink for sustenance. Here, again, the 
wishes for the dead are the best evidence of the 
things deemed needful for the living ; ' bread and 
beer, oxen and geese, cloth and linen, incense and 
myrrh, and things good and pure whereon a god 
lives' — so runs the common formula, which hardly 
less often mentions ' the sweet breeze of the North- 
wind' as a necessity of life. The place of life was 
pre-eminently the earth ; ' aU ye who live upon 
earth,' begins a favourite invocation. 

Various views were held as to the whereabouts 
of the dead, but their habitation was normally not 
the earth ; ' those who are yonder ' is, as we have 
seen, a common designation of the dead. Tliat the 
land of death is a land whence there is no return- 
ing was early said ; already in tlie Pyramid Texts 
(2175) we find the warning, ' Go not upon those 
western ways, for those who have gone yonder 
come not back again'' (the same thought recurs 
later; cf. Harris 600, recto 7, 2). Reflexions as 
to the duration of life and death are often en- 
countered in the texts. The Egyptian prayed that, 
like Joseph, he might attain to the age of 110 years 
(see RTAP xxxiv. [1912] 16-18). In comparison 
with death, the endlessness of which was constantly 
alluded to (cf. 'the city of eternity' for the 
necropolis, ' the lords of eternity ' for the funerary 
gods), 'the span of things done upon earth is but 
as a dream' (PSBA xxxv. [1913] 169; cf. Pap. 
Petersburg 1116 A , recto 55 [Les Papyrus hicratiques 
. . . de I'Ermitage, 1913]; it should be said 
])arenthetically that this comparison of life with a 
dream refers only to the dreamlike fugitiveness of 
its events, not to any speculations concerning its 
reality). With regard to the extension of the idea 
of life, it seems to have included man and tlie animal 

1 J'or this and oilier valuable references the writer is indebted 
{,0 Professor Sethe 01 Gottiuneu. 



LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian) 



kinf;ilomoiily (cf.thewordsquoted fionia Mcmpliite 
text in § II)"; it is doubtful whether au liKyptian 
wouUl have spoken of jilantsas living; nor is there 
any expression fomul to describe the neutral in- 
animate state of things not belonging to the animal 
world. 

4. The hatred of death.— The openinj; words of 
the fjravesloiie-fiirmula, 'O yi- who love life .ind 
hate death,' strike to the root of tliu most profound 
feelings of the Kfryjitians, whose intense love of life 
and detestation of death made them devote more 
time and thought to funerary tilings than has been 
done by any other people before or since. The 
best expression of these feelings is on a stele dating 
only from the year 46 B.C., )iut wholly Egyptian 
in feeling ; a woman speaks from the tomb to the 
husband who has survived her : 

' O brother, husband, friend, highpriest— thy heart shall not 
CTOW weary of driiikiitf; and eatini?, drunkenness and love. 
Celebrate a happy day ; follow thy hi;art by day and night ; 
put no care in thy heart. What are thy years upon the earth y 
The West [i.e. the place of burial] is a laud of slumber, dark and 
heavy, the habitation of those who are yonder, who sleep in 
their mumniy-shiipes, nor wake to see their brethren, nor regard 
their fathers and w.others, and their hearts are reft of their 
wives and chil'lreii. The living water of which all have a share, 
for me it is thirst, but it comes to him who is upon earth. 
Thirst have I. though water is beside me, and I know not the 
place where 1 am, since I came to this valley. . . . Turn my 
face to the North wind on the bank of the water ; perchance so 
my heart shall be relieved of itjs atfliotion. Nay but Death, his 
name is "Come" ; every one to whom he hath called conies to 
him straightway, their hearts affrighted, through fear of him. 
There is none can see him either of gods or of men ; great and 
small alike rest with him, nor can any stay his finger. He 
loveth all, and robbetli the son from his mother. The old man 
moves to meet him, and all men fear and make petition before 
him. Yet he turns not his face towards them, he comes not to 
him who implores him, he hearkens not when he is worshipped, 
he shows himself not, even though any manner of bribe is given 
to him' (R. Lepsius, Att^ioahl der wichtigsten Urlcuiiden deg 
dgiip. AlUrtltums, Leipzig, 1842, pi. 16). 

This is perhaps the only passage in which death 
is personified, though the Egyptians were not 
averse to a sort of fictitious deifacation of abstract 
ideas; Life, e.g., is found beside Health in the 
outward guise of a Nile-god (J. E. Gautier and 
G. J^quier, Memoire sur les fouilles de Licht, 
Paris, 1902, p. 25). The exhortation 'celebrate a 
happy day ' recurs again and again in the songs of 
the harpers at Egyptian banquets, together with 
the reminder that life is short, death inevitable 
and eternal. Herodotus tells us (ii. 78) that at the 
entertainments of the rich a wooden figure of a 
dead body in a coffin was borne around and shown 
to the guests, with the words : ' When thou lookest 
upon this, drink and be merry, for thou shalt be 
such as tliis when thou art dead.' No reference is 
made to t his custom in our tex ts, but it is thoroughly 
Egyptian in spirit (see also Plut. de Is. et Osir. 
xvii.). The old songs collected by W. Max Miiller, 
Die Liebespoesie der alien Agypter, Leipzig, 1899 
(pp. 29-37), recall the wretched fate of the 
dead : 

' The nobles and glorified ones . . . burirf in their p.\Tamids, 
who built themselves chapels, their place is no more ; what is 
become of them? I fiave heard the words of luihotpe and 
Hardedef, told and told again ; where is their place ? Their 
walls are destroyed, their place is no more, as though they had 
never been. None cometn thence who can relate how they 
fare. . . .' Then comes the inevitable moral : * Be of good 
cheer, forget and enjoy thyself. Follow thy heart, so long as 
thou livest ; place myrrh on thy head, clothe thyself with fine 
linen, anoint thyself; forget sorrow and remember joy, until 
arrives that day of puttitig to shore in the land that loveth 
silence.' 

5. The hope of immortality. — From the same 
Theban tomb from which the last wonlsnre drawn 
(tomb of the priest Neferhotpe [50], XlXth dyn.) 
conies a song expressing widely dillerent senti- 
ments : 

' 1 have beard those songs that are in the ancient tombs, and 
what ttaey tell extolling life on earth, and belittling the region 
of the dead. Yet wherefore do they thus as concerns the land 
of Ktcrnit;. , the just and fair, where terrors are not? Wrangling 
is ita abborreoca, oor docs any gird himself against his fellow. 



That land free of foes, all our kinsmen rest within it from the 
earliest day of time. The children of millions of millions come 
thither, every one. For none may tarry in the land of Eff>l>t ; 
none there iw that passes not yonder. Tlu; span of eartldy 
deeds is but as a dream ; but a fair welcouie awaits him who 
has reached the VleiV (PSBA xxxv. liiU). 

This pretty poem voices the opinions of those 
who, holding a firm faith in immortality, rejected 
the cold comfortless views of death already illus- 
trated. No doubt that faith was born of a 
revulsion of feeling against the pitile-ss cruelty of 
death; and, being the olVspring of the will rather 
than of the reason, it did not supersede or drive 
out the oi)i)Osite belief. There is an argumentative, 
controversial note in the asseveration of the old 
funerary texts, 'Thou hast departed living, thou 
bust not departed dead' {Pyiamkl Texts, 134; cf. 
S:i3) ; or we may quote the reiterated assurance, 
' Thou diest not,' in the same texts (657, 775, 781, 
792, 810, 875, 1464, 1477, 1810, 181'->, '2201). The 
multifarious funerary rites, the contracts made 
with fc/priests, and the petitions or threats to 
]iassers-by ant' visitors to the tombs all imjily that 
the benefits of immortality were not to be obtained 
except by elaborate forethought and deliberate 
effort. it is true that a discontinuance of the 
funerary cult might not entail complete anni- 
hilation ; the Egyptians dreaded, for instance, lesl 
the cessation of the offerings made to them might 
compel tliem to devour their own excrements (ZA 
xlvii. [1910] 100-111). Nevertheless, there was 
ever lurking in the background the fear that a man 
might perish altogether, and that his corpse might 
decay and fall bo pieces (Book of the Dcnd, titles of 
chs. 45, 163), this fear giving rise to the strange 
apprehension of a ' second death in the necropolis' 
(ib. chs. 44, 175, 176). 

Similar conclusions might perhaps be drawn 
from the variety of the theories concerning the 
fate of the departed, who were alternately (or even 
simultaneously) believed to be stars in the sky, 
dwellers in the nether world, incarnations of Osiris, 
oi spirits living in the tomb or revisiting their 
earthly homes (see art. State of the Dead 
[Egyptian]). It is unthinkable that all these 
divergent views were accepted and believed with 
a fervent sincerity ; rather they were conjectures 
sanctioned by ancient tradition, lialf-believed, half- 
doubted, and expressed with a naive and credulous 
thoughtlessness, which at the same time failed to 
silence the haunting suspicion that absolute death, 
after all, might be a reality. 

6. Secondary views of life and death. — Under 
the influence of the conception of immortality the 
terms 'life' and 'death' became so impregn.ated 
each with the meaning of the other tliat they no 
longer contradicted and excluded one another as 
they had originally done ; ' life ' was not neces- 
sarily the short term of existence upon earth, 
and ' death ' was jierbaps but another mode of 
living. Sometimes, of course, by the abstraction 
which language permits, the words were used in 
their old strictly contrasted senses, but often there 
is left only a "shadow of the original meaning ; 
' living ' may be any form of existence vaguely 
analogous to jihysical, terrestrial existence, and 
'death,' 'die,' 'dead,' are terms that might be 
applied to various states from which some char- 
acteristic feature of living was absent. A few 
examples, mainly of jihilological interest, may 
serve to illustrate this transition of meaning. Not 
only was prolongation of life the reward of moral 
conduct (see ETHICS and Morality [Egyptian], 
§ 6), but in a sense the moral life was the only 
true life ; in the Teaching of Ptahhotpe we 
read : 

■ As for the fool who hearkens not, he achieves not anything:, 
he looks upon huu \^ho knows as one who is ignorant, wid 
upon lihings useful as things harmful, ... he lives upon thai 



LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian) 



23 



wherewith men die, ... his character is told(?) in the opinion 
of the nobles in that he dies living: every day' (tc Papyrus 
Prisse, ed. G. .Jiquier, Paris, 1911, 17. 4-S). 

Such was tlie fear felt by him who was admitted 
to the presence of Pharaoh that he knew not 
whether he was alive or dead {Sinuhe, 255 ; Koller 
[ed. A. H. Gardiner, Literary Texts of the New 
Kingdom, Leipzit;, 1911], 5. 1). The verb ' to live' 
was applied to ntlier things besides human beings 
and animals ; thus, whatever else in a man might 
die, his name, if properly tended, would continue 
to live (Pi/ramid Texts, 764, 899, 1024, and in later 
texts ^«5.s(>»). 'Living soul' (b\ 'nhy) is a collo- 
cation of words which frequently occurs ; yet, from 
its association with the dead, the word 'soul' is 
often determined with the hieroglyph that implies 
death. Pictures, statues, and images of all kinds 
were imbued with a sort of life,' by virtue of a 
principle common to all early superstition ; the 
sculptor was called ' he who makes to live ' (s'nh) ; 
hieroglyphs representing animals and human beings 
were sometimes mutilated or suppressed, obviously 
because they were considered to have the same 
power to injure as living things (ZA li. 1-64). 

7. Death and the gods.— Could the gods be said 
to live? In a sense, no doubt, they were con- 
sidered to live more fully, more truly, than human 
beings. The solar deity in particular was full of 
vitality ; the Pharaoh is said to be ' gi-anted life 
like lie' ; Ke ' lives upon truth ' ; the solar hymns, 
especially those to the Aten (the solar god of the 
heretic king Akhenaten) represent all life as ema- 
nating from the god ; and all gods and goddesses 
were disjiensers of life. On a closer view, however, 
we find that the kind of life that was predicated of 
the gods is more analogous to the life of the blessed 
dead than to the life of human beings; to the 
virtuous dead it is promised, 'he who is yonder 
shall be a living god' (Erman, Gesprdch ernes 
Lebcnsmiakn vnt seiner Seele, Berlin, 1896, p. 142 ; 
cf. Pap. Petcrsbimg, 1116A, recto 56). That the 
gods dwell afar of!' together with the dead is shown 
By the following sentence from a sepulchral stele 
of the Middle Kingdom : ' I have gone down to the 
city of eternity, to the place where the gods are' 
(Cairo, 20485). Various dead Pharaohs and celeb- 
rities were posthumously deified (see art. Heroks 
AND Hkro-Gods [Egyptian]), and.the green or black 
complexions of their images suggest tliat they were 
not regarded as wholly alive. Osiris, as King of 
Eternity, chief of the AVesterners, led but a shadowy 
existence, and similar conclusions are implied by 
the fact that certain deities had their ' living ' ter- 
restrial representatives. The Pharaoh ruled as 
Horus 'on the throne-of-Horus of the living'; 
under another aspect he was the 'living sphinx- 
image of Atum' (sSp 'nh n ' Itni). Alternately 
regarded as ' son of Re' and as identical with Ke, 
the King did not die, but ' flew to heaven and 
joined the sun, the flesh of the god becoming 
merged in its creator ' (Sinuhe, R 7 f.). The Apis 
and Mnevis bulls were respectively living emana- 
tions of Ptah and Atum, and other sacred animals 
whose cult was celebrated in late times doubtless 
stood in a similar relation to the gods whom they 
represented. Lastly, the historical aspect from 
which the gods were sometimes regarded repre- 
sented them as rulers of a far-distant age, and, in 
consequence, as beings long since dead. 

8. The dead as a class of beings.— In the Book 
of the Dead and elsewhere we lind the follow- 
ing classification : men, gods, blessed dead (i;/(«, 
'bright' ones), and dead (intw) (see E. A. W. 
Budge, Book of the Dead, London, 1898, pp. 113, 

1 It h.is often been stated, especially by Q. Maspero, that 
objects toiimi in the tombs have been deliberately brolien m 
order to ' kill ' them, and so to send them into the realms of the 
(lead for the use of the deceased. No authentic evidence in 
favour of this statement seems to be fortlijomins. 



293, 298, 308, 366, 389, 477). In this classification 
there is a kind of chronological hierarchical 
arrangement; the dead of the most remote times 
are holier, and partake more of divinity, than 
those recently deceased. So, too, the Turin Canon 
of Kings conceived the earliest rulers of Egypt to 
have been the gods of the first ennead ; then came 
the lesser gods, and, lastly, the followers of Horus 
and earliest historical kings. Manetho records a 
similar sequence of "gods' and 'semi-divine dead' 
(piKves oi iiixlSeoi}. In the £00/1; of the Dead and 
elsewhere ' the dead' are spoken of in a way that 
clearly assumes them to enjoy a kind of existence ; 
they ' see,' ' hear,' and so forth. 

9. Relations of the living and the dead.— Some 
Egyptologists, influenced more by anthropological 
theorists than by the unambiguous evidence of the 
Egyptian texts, have asserted that the funerary 
rites and practices of the Egyptians were in the 
main precautionary measures serving to protect 
the living against the dead (e.g., J. Capart, in 
Trans. Third Congr. Hist. Bel., Oxford, 1908, 
i. 203). Nothing could be farther from the truth ; 
it is of fundamental importance to realize that the 
vast stores of wealth and thought expended by the 
Egyptians on their tombs — that wealth and that 
thought which created not only the pyramids, but 
also the practice of mummification and a very 
extensive funerary literature— were due to the 
anxiety of each member of the community with 
regard to his own individual future welfare, and 
no"t to the feelings of respect, or fear, or duty felt 
towards the other dead. We have only to read the 
story of the exile Sinuhe to realize the horror felt 
by an Egypti.an at the prospect of dying abroad, 
and of being thus deprived of the usual funerary 
honours ; it is a feeling akin to this that created 
the whole system of funereal observances. 

It does not vitiate the assertion here made that 
the dead cannot bury themselves, and are to that 
extent at the mercy of the living. Death does not 
absolutely snap all relations ; and motives of filial 
piety, the calculation that one's own funeral rites 
are dependent on others, liberal inducements in the 
form of legacies, previous contracts with the de- 
ceased, and also a certain modicum of fear and 
Jiope— all these things attbrded a certain guarantee 
to the dying man that his own wishes with regard 
to burial and a post mortem cult would be carried 
out. But there was no real ancestor-worship or 
objective cult of the dead in ancient Egypt.' The 
feelings of the living towards the other-dead, if 
they may be so called, constitute, therefore, a 
question apart from the question of funerary rites 
(see art. Death and Disposal of the Dead 
[Egyptian]). The Egyptians wailed and mourned 
at°the death of relatives, not merely out of grief, 
but as a matter of propriety ; under the New 
Kingdom, mourning-clothes of a bluish colour were 
worn by women at the funeral (ZA xlvii. 162) ; we 
have at least one possible allusion to fasting on the 
occasion of a death (Pap. Petersburg, 1116B, recto 
42) ; friends as well as relatives attended the 
funeral. It was thought that after death the 
deceased might return 'to afford protection to 
their children upon earth' (Urkunden, iv. 491; 
Nina de Garis Davies and A. H. Gardiner, Tomb 
of Amenemhef, London, 1914, pi. 27) ; and we have 
a number of pathetic letters to departed relatives 
craving their intervention and help (Cairo, 25,975, 
hieratic text on linen. Old Kingdom ; Cairo, 25,375, 
and Petrie collection, bowls with hieratic inscrip- 
tion, before Middle Kingdom ; Pitt-Rivers collec- 
tion, cup with hieratic inscription, before XVIIIth 
dyn. =PSBA xiv. [1892] 328). In one of these 
letters (Pap. Leyden 371, XXth dyn. ; see Mas- 
pero, Etudes (gyptiennes, Paris, 1879-91, 1. 145-159) 
I See, further, art. Exmcs and Morality (Egyptian), 9 ij(18). 



S4 



LIFE AND DEATH (Egyptian) 



bitter reproaches are udilressed to a dead woman 
by her widower, who has fallen ill, blaming her for 
her neglect of him after all his kindness towards 
her while she was alive. 

10. The dead as malignant beings.— In the 
magical and medical papyri incantations are often 
directed against ' every enemy male or female, 
every dead person male or female,' who shall come 
to injure N, the son of M. The dead are conceived 
of as the cause of disea.«e, though perhaps only those 
dead are meant who still wandered homeless over 
the earth. The evidence seems fairly clear that 
actual ' possession ' by the dead, conceived of as 
jiannting spirits, is meant in such cases ; for the 
demon is charged to ' flow forth,' and honey is said 
to be a useful medicament ' which is sweet to men, 
but bitter to the dead' (Erman, Zauberspriichc fiir 
Mutter und Kind, Berlin, 19U1, p. 12 f.). At the 
same time, the duly-buried dead also had power to 
take vengeance on those who injured their pro- 
perty or violated their tombs (H. Sottas, La Pre- 
servation de la propriite fun(rairc, Paris, 1913). 
Evidently in Egypt, as in other lands, there was a 
danger inherent in death and in tlie dead, as also 
in blood, the symbol of death ; in a Leyden papyi-us 
it is lamented that ' plague is throughout the 
land, blood is everywhere, death is not lacking' 
(Gardiner, TJie Admonitions of an Egyptian Sage, 
Leipzig, 1909, p. 25) ; and, perhaps because of its 
association with blood, red colour is in many papyri 
avoided for writing the names of the gods, except 
in the case of the evil god Seth. 

XI. Origin and nature of life and death. — The 
Pyramid Tests (1466) recall a time 'when heaven 
was not, when earth was not, when mankind was 
not, before the gods were bom, before death had 
come into existence.' Many cosmogonic legends 
were told by the Egyptians (see Erman, Agyptische 
Jicligion^, Berlin, 1909, pp. 33-36, for best sum- 
mary) ; most of these referred the origin of life to 
some god, but there was a superstition which 
attributed self-generative powers to various small 
forms of animal life, such as mice, snakes, or flies. 
The frog was particularly prominent in this con- 
nexion, doubtless owing to the numbers in which 
tadpoles appear, just as though they had come into 
existence by themselves out of the wet mud. Hence 
not onl3' did the fro" become a symbol of the resur- 
rection (!oA?n 'nh, 'living again'), but it was inti- 
mately associated with the beginning of things ; 
in the Hermopolitan myth the eight primitive 
creatures had the heads of frogs or snakes, and in 
the Abydene tale the frog-headed goddess Heket 
was associated with Khnum in the creation (see 
W. Spiegelberg and A. Jacoby, in Sphinx, vii. 
[1903] 215-228). Life, once being started, was 
continued by the physical methods of reproduction 
(see esp. Song of Harper, 1. 1; Admonitions, 12, 
2-4), but the gods, especially the sun-god, Re, 
were none the less the cause and mainspring of life 
(the birth-scenes in the temples of Luxor and Deir 
el Bahri are very instructive in this connexion). 

A darinjrly speculative attempt to follow up this train of 
thought is found in an inscription from Memphis, a late copy of 
a text of early dale fj. H. Breasted, 'The Philosophy of a 
Memphite Priest,' in /.f xxxix.tl903] 39).l which seeks to explain 
how PtAh, having primitively divided himself into 'Heart' (the 
seat of the imaginative, judging faculty), as impersonated by 
Horus, and * Tongue ' (the organ of command, i.e. the executive, 
willing^ faculty), as impersonated by Thoth, henceforward per- 
vaded all that lives, 'all gods, all men, all cattle, and all 
reptiles.' It is then shown how all actions and reactions to sense- 
impressions presuppose the functions of ' heart' and * tongue' : 
when the eyes see, or the ears hear, or the nose smells, they 
convey (this sensation) to the heart, and it is the heart that 
causes every reco^Tiition (judgment) to go forth ; it is the 
ton^e that iterale-; (in the form of a command or act of the will) 
what the heart devises. In this way Ptah necessarily appears 
to tit the cause of all things done bylinng creatures ;' he is, in 



I See also Erraan, SSA W, 1911, p. 913 B. ; a new ed. is promisecl 
by Sethe. 



other words, the vitAl principle iUclf. TJiis psychological ana- 
lysis of human, or rather animal, activity is up to the present 
unique, and pcrliaps represents the thought of soiue unusually 
gifted individual rather Uian that of the priests and learned men 
generally. 

The medical papyri show that a serious attempt 
was early made to understand the workings of 
the body, but no other eliort to reconcile semi- 
ecientific views with the current mythology has 
yet come to light. 

12. Magico-medical views. — A certain pre-natal 
existence is assumed in mauy hj'perbolical expres- 
sions, as 'he ruled (already) in the egg' {Sinuhe, 
K9.i). The normal view, of course, was that life 
began with birth ; a writer speaks of the 'children 
who are broken in the egg, who have seen the face 
of the crocodile before thej' ever lived' (Lebens- 
miide, 79). The medical papyri contain prognosti- 
cations for telling whether a cliild will live or not ; 
' if it says ny [a sound like the word for ' yes '], it 
will live ; if it says embi [a sound like the word 
for 'no'], it will die' (Pap. Ebers, ed. L. Stem, 
Leipzig, 1875, 97. 13 f.). Spells were used to prevent 
women from conceiving, and there are various 
other ways in which birth is touched upon by the 
magico-medical literature. Amulets and charms 
of all sorts were employed to protect life ; and, 
conversely, magic was secretly employed to bring 
about an enemy's death (e.g., bj- means of waxen 
images [Pop. Lee ; see P. E. Newberry, The Am- 
herst Papyri, London, 1899]). A Turin papyrus 
attempts to cover all contingencies by enumerat- 
ing all the possible kinds of death that may happen 
to a man (W. Pleyte and F. Kossi, Pa}j. cfc Turin, 
Leyden, 1869-76, p. liiOf.). Some kinds of death 
were considered happier than others ; death by 
drowning, e.g., was a kind of apotheosis, doubtless 
because Osiris had perished in this way, and those 
who died thus were called liasye, ' blessed ' (ZA 
xhi. [1909] 132). Curses were considered efficient 
magical means of afieeting life (for a good collec- 
tion of curses see Sottas, op. cit.). Out lis are 
conditional curses; it was usual to swear 'by 
the life of Ke,' and so common was this style of 
oath that the verh'dnk, 'to live,' was used transi- 
tively in the sense of ' to swear by,' and the Coptic 
word for an oath is avash. Most contracts and 
judicial depositions during the New Kingdom 
begin \vith the words, ' As Amun endures, and as 
the Sovereign endures.' In the law-courts wit- 
nesses often swore oaths afleeting their own life 
and property (conditional self-curses ; see Spiegel- 
berg, Studien und Materialien ztim Jicchtswesen 
des Pharaohenreiches, Hanover, 189'2, pp. 71-81). 

13. Life and the law. — On this subject consult 
the art. ETHICS .\ND Moeality (Egyptian), § 13 
(1-3), from which it will be seen that the sanctity 
of human life was strongly felt, as far at least as 
Egyptians were concerned. A few details may 
be added here. Abortion was considered a crime 
(Pap. Turin, 55. 1), unless the charge made in the 
passage here quoted was one of brutality leading 
to a miscarriage. Particularly abhorrent was 
bloodshed between close relatives, as father and 
son, or a man and his maternal brothers (see 
Gardiner, Admonitions, p. 9). Capital punish- 
ment was less favourably considered than punish- 
ment by imijrisonment and the bastinado (Pap. 
Petersburg, 1116 A, recto 48 f.), and persons con- 
demned to death were allowed to make away with 
themselves. 

14. Life as a thing undesirable. — The Egyptians' 
intense love of life and appreciation of its value 
are reflected in many of tue passages that have 
been quoted. There is, however, a limited pessi- 
mistic literature (see art. EtiiiCi^ AND MORALITY 
[Egyptian], § 6) in which life is regarded as nn- 
de.sirable. This point of view may have been 
inspired originally by some such anarchical cou- 



LIFE AND DKATH (Greek and Roman) 



S5 



(Utions as prevailed after the fall of the Mempliite 
dj'nasties. By the beftinning of the Middle King- 
dom the pessimistic stjde of literature was a recoj;- 
nized genre. Sometimes the despondent attitude 
towards life finds expression in the wish for a total 
cessation of life : 

' Would that there might be an end of men, no conception, 
no birth I O that the earth would cease from noise, and tumult 
be no more 1 ' (Leyden Adrnonitmis, 5. 14-6. 1). 

Elsewhere the misery of life is eloquently contrasted 
M'ith the desirability of death ; iu a composition 
coutaining the dialogue between a misanthrope 
and his soul, death is desci'ibed as follows : 

'Death is before me to-day like the recovery of a sick man, 
like going; forth abroad after lying prostrate. 

Death is before me to-day like the scent of myrrh, like sitting 
beneath the sail on a windy day. 

Death is before me to-day like the scent of lilies, like sitting 
on the shore of the land of intoxication. 

Death is before me to-day like a trodden road, like the return 
of men from a campaign to their homes. 

Death is before me to-day like the clearing of the sky, or as 
when a man becomes enlightened concerning that which he did 
not know. 

Death is before me to-day as a man longs to see his home, 
when he has spent manr years in captivity ' (Erman, Lebensiniide, 
ISOff.). 

In the sequel it appears that the death here so 
highly praised is not non-existence, but the un- 
troubled existence 'yonder.' And so it mostly 
was ; the Egyptian remains true to his love of life — 
not perhaps the life on earth with its mingled joys 
and sorrows, but the life of his dreams in the land 
of Eternity, 'the just and fair, where terrors are 
not,' and where 'none girds himself against his 
fellow.' 

LiTERATDRR. — ^There is no published monograph on the subject ; 
such references as are needful have been given in the text. For 
the sign 'ankh see a detailed discussion by G. J6quier, in Btdl. 
de I'institut fran^ais d'archMogie orientate^ xi. (Cairo, 1914) 

121-136. Alan H. Gardiner. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Greek and Roman).— 
The outlook on life of the average Greek of the 
5th cent. c.C. may be illustrated by the language 
which Herodotus,"*!. SOU'., puts into the mouth of 
Solon of Athens in his interview with Croesus, 
King of Lydia. 

When Solon visited Sardis, after all the grandeur of the 
royal palace had been exhibited for his admiration, he was 
asked by Croesus whom he considered the happiest man (oA^t- 
wTaros) he had ever seen. To the surprise of Cr(Esus, Solon 
answered, * Tellus of Athens,' because, ' on the one hand, Tellus 
lived in a prosperous city, and had sons handsome and good 
(icoAot Ka\ ayaOoC), and saw children born to them all and all 
surviving ; on the other hand, after a life affluent as we count 
affluence in Ilellas, he died a most glorious death. He fought 
in a battle between the Athenians and their neighbours at 
Eleusis, and, routing the enemy, died most nobly ; and the 
Athenians gave him a public burial where he fell, and honoured 
him greatly.' 

OrcDSUS then asked whom he considered second in happiness. 
Solon answered, 'ClenMs and Biton.' These were natives of 
Argos, possessed of sufficient fortune, aud, moreover, endowed 
\vith such strength of body that both were prize-winners in 
the games. It is farther related of them that on one occasion, 
when the Argives were celebrating a festival in honour of Hera, 
it was necessary that their mother, as priestess of Hera, should 
be conveyed to the temple on an os-waggon. The oxen not 
arriring from the field in time, the young men harnessed them- 
selves to tlie waggon and drew it to the temple, a distance of 
forty-five stades. After they had performed this feat in view 
of the assembly, there came upon them a most excellent end of 
life, wherein God clearly revealed that death is better for a man 
than life. For tlie men of Argos standing round praised the 
strength of the young men, and the women of Argos called their 
mother blessed in that she had such sons. Then their niuther 
rejoiced ex^eedingli- in her soms' deeds and in the speech of the 
citizens, and, standing before the image of the goddess, besought 
her to grant to her children, who had done her such honour, 
the best thing that man can receive. After this prayer, when 
her sons had sacrificed and feasted, they fell asleep in the temple 
and awaked no more, but there ended their days. The Argives, 
in commemoration of their piety, caused their statues to be 
made and dedicated at Delphi. 

Crojsus was intlignant that Solon should not assign to him 
even the second place among happy men. Then Solon said : 
' Crcesus. you ask me regarding human affairs— me who 
know that the deity (to Oelov) is always jealous and delights in 
confounding mankind. For in the length of days men are con- 
strained to see n'any things they would not willingly see, and 
to suffer many tilings they would not willingly suffer. I put 
the tt-rm of a man's life at seventy years. . . . Kow in all these 



days of seventy years ... no one day brings ua at all anything 
like another. Thus, O Croosus, man "is altogether the sport of 
cliance (nav coTcr dv^pwiros (rvfi^^opri). You appear to me to be 
master of immense treasures and king of many nations ; but I 
cannot say that of you which you demand, till I hear you have 
ended vour life happily. For the richest of men is not more 
happy (oA^iwTcpos) tlian he that has sufficient for the day, unless 
good fortune attend him to the grave and he end his life in 
happiness. Many men who abound in wealth are unhappy 
(ai'6Aj3(oi) ; and many who have only a moderate competency 
are fortunate (ci-rvxe'cs). He that abounds in riches, and is yet 
unhappy (afdA.^ios), excels the other only in two things; but 
the other surpasses him m many things. The wealthy man, 
indeed, is better able to gratify his desires and to bear a great 
blow of adversity. But the other surpasses him in these 
respects : although he is not able to meet the blows of mis- 
fortune or the claims of bis desires, yet his good fortune 
(evTvxtij) wards o£f these things from bim, and he enjoys the 
full use of his limbs; he is free from diseases, unscathed by 
evil, blessed with a fine foim (evciivj?), happy in his children 
(ewjrat?); and, if all these tilings come at last to be crowned by 
a decent end, such a one is the man you seek, and may justly 
be called happy (oA)3io5). For until that time we ought to 
suspend our judgment, and not to pronounce him happy 
(oA^ios), but only fortunate (eurux^s). Now because no man 
can possibly attain to this perfection of happiness; as no one 
region yields all good things, but produces some and wants 
others, that country being best which affords the greatest 
plenty ; and, further, because no human body is in all respects 
self-sufficient, but, possessing some advantages, is destitute of 
others ; he therefore who continues to enjoy the greatest 
number of these and then ends his life graciously, in my judg- 
ment, O King, deserves the name of happy. We ought to con- 
sider in every matter how the end shall be ; for many to whom 
God has given a glimpse of happiness (virofie'^at oA^of), He has 
afterwards utterly overthrown.' 

In reviewing these passages we may begin with 
the last point: * Consider the end of everything.' 
This is a favourite sentiment in Greek ^vriters, 
and there seems to be a note of conscious pride 
in the words with which Herodotus concludes the 
episode : 

• When he made this reply, he found no favour with Crcesus, 
who held him of no accouut and dismissed him, considering 
him a very foolish man (a,/.ia0ijs) who, overlooking present 
blessings, bade men look to the end of evervthing.' 

Life is to be viewed as a whole. Already in 
Homer we find it a mark of tlie wise man that he 
' looks before and after.' * It is a favourite notion 
in Pindar : 

* There hang around the minds of men unnumbered errors, 
and this is the hopeless thing to discover — what is best for a 
man both now and in the end ' (01. vii. 24 ff.). 

Hence the distinction here drawn between the 
'liappy' man (fiX^ios* 6 5iA toD b'Xov ^iov fxaKaptards 
[Hesychius]) and the merely fortuuate [evrvx-'is). 
A man may he prosperous, as Crcesus was. The 
Asiatic straiohtway calls him happy, but the 
' foolish * Greeli refuses that title till he has seen 
the end of all : 

' Behold, this is Oedipus ; this is he who solved the famous 
riddle and was a man most mighty . . . into what a sea of 
dire calamity is he fallen ! Therefore, while a mortal waits to 
sFee that final day, call no man happy (/xpSeV' oK^i^eiv) till he 
have passed the final bourne of life, having suffered no evil' 
(Sophocles, CEd. Rex, 1624 ff. ; cf. Track. Iff. ; Eurip. Andtom 
lOOff., etc.).2 

Aristotle discusses the saying of Solon in £tk, 
Nic. i. 10 : 

iriSrepoi' ovv ovS' aXXov oiiSfva av$p<oiriav tvSai^LOViirr^ov €ws av 
ifj, Kara ^o^wva Bk \peojv Te'Aos opav ; 

He begins by asking what the sa3'ing means. 
Does it mean that a man is happy {evSalii.wv) only 
when he is dead, but not before ? If so, then it is 
absurd, especially if we liold that hapfiiness (eiiSai/i- 
ovia.) is an activity (ifi pyeii, tis). Does it mean 
that only when a man is dead is one safe to call 
him happy, as being at last beyond the reach of 
evil and misfortune ? Even if this is the meaning 
intended, the saying is open to dispute. In 
estimating a man's life, as happj' or unhappy, we 
cannot confine our view to the individual. Man is 
a social being (ipvau ttoXit-uAs 6.v0piinros [Eth. Nic. i. 
7 ; cf. Pol. i. 2]). If happiness, then, as we have 

J afjM iTp6iTa<i} (cat oirt<ro-a) (//. iii. 109 ; cl. i. SiS, xviii. 250, Od. 
xxiv. 462). 
2 The sentiment is not, of course, specifically Greek ; cf. Sir 

ll-S : jrpb TcAtuTil? iiri /j^ajcdpt^f fi7)^eva : Ovid, ilet. iii. 135 : 
' Ultima semper 1 Expectaiida dies homini ; dicique beatus | 
Ante obitum ueuio suprematpie funera debet^' 



26 



LIPB AND DEATH (Greek and Roman) 



.seen, is cliaijirterizeJ by sell --uilkiency (oiTdp/tfio), 
it is a self-suflicicncv wliich includes cliildren and 
other relatives and friends— witliin certain limits, 
of conrse ; otlierwise it would have to inchide the 
relatives of relatives, the friends of friends, and so 
on indefinitely {Etii. Aic. i. 7). AVhen we are 
estimating the happiness of a man's life, then, we 
must include in the estimate a consideration of the 
fortunes or misfortunes of relatives and friends; 
but, here again, within limits. A man may have 
lived happily until ohl age and have died happily. 
But after liis death (1) all sorts of things may 
happen to his relatives, and (2) these relatives will 
be of all degrees of neaniess and remotene.ss of 
relation to the dead raan. Now it is equally 
absurd either (1) to suppose that we must include 
in our consideration all sorts of degrees of distant 
relations, which would mean an indefinite post- 
ponement of our verdict, or (2) to refuse to take 
into account any iiosthunioua happenings at all. 

The ground ol our refusal to bestow the title of 
' happy ' on a living man is that we consider 
hapiJiness as something stable and abiding, where- 
as life is subject to continual change. Conse- 
quently, if we judge a man by his condition at 
any one given time, we shall have to call him 
sometimes hajipy, sometimes unhappy. Is not our 
true solution that we must neglect accidents in 
our estimate? iMost accidents are not determina- 
tive of ei'SaiyuoWa. What determines happiness or 
the reverse is (vepryeiai Kar dper^x or the reverse. 
This view is supported by our present problem. 
So long as we judge by accidents, we are no better 
olt when the individual is dead than when he was 
alive. We are driven, then, to judge by the stable 
things, i.e. by the ivipyeiai xar' aperriv, and the 
higher of these are the more abiding, as it is in 
these chieUy that the happy live out their lives 
(/coTaf^i').' Hence these are more stable and abid- 
ing even than our knowledge of special sciences, 
which we are not living in and are therefore liable 
to forget. Thus the stability and permanence 
which we desire will belong to the evSaiixwi', and he 
will be evdai^Luf all his life. His happiness may be 
tarnished by untoward accidents, but it will not 
be extinguished. He will never become dSXios, or 
truly unhappy, for he will never do things which 
are if>av\a Koi ni<r7jrd. If overwhelming misfortune, 
such as overtook Priam— n'^xai UpiafuKdi — should 
come to liini, he will cease to lie ^aitd/jtos, but he 
will not become &9\iot. Happiness can be affected 
only by the greatest things, whether for good or evil. 

We'ni.ay, then, define tlie happy man {evSai/iwi') 
as a man who energizes kot-' apiT-qv and is adequately 
equipped in externals, not for a moment, but for a 
Xpivos TtXciOi. Or, since the future is uncertain, 
and eiSainonia is a rfXoj and TAeioi/, perhaps we 
may add tlie proviso 'if it continue.' If so, we 
shall say that those who have goods and shall con- 
tinue to have them are /xaA.dpioi, but //o^dpioi 
AuBpuiroi — always liable to Ti>xai ilpiaixiKal. We 
need not defer our judgment, but we may qualify 
it by saying tliat they are happy, but with a 
mortal h.ippiness. 

To confine our view to the individual's life, and 
take no account of what happens after his death 
to those near and dear to him, is to take too un- 
social a view. On the other hand, we must make 
some limitation. There are two further considera- 
tions : (1) posthumous events must be regarded as 
modifying our judgment of a man's life much less 
than if tlie same things had happened while he stiU 
lived ; he, at any rate, was spared the knowledge 
of them ; (-2) we do not know whether the dead 
aiffOdvoirrat — whether they are aware of what goes 

1 The proposal to read ^.> for KaTafij*- in completely mistaken. 
KaraCvy " the regular w ord (or describinj; a fixed m.'tnner of 
i.\i-tf nee : ' to i>e a Kpin-UT " is Kara^ijt' avviA^ot. So Karaptovv 
u coiilnutcd with pwiv. 



on here. If they are, the news that penetrates to 
them must be supposed to be slight in itself or at 
any rate of little moment to them. It follows, 
then, that posthumous events have no determining 
effect on our estimate »f the individual's life. 

The doctrine of the jealousy of the gods appears 
often in Greek literature, and deserves special 
notice. It is a mistake to suppose that the Greek 
view is that the deity acts in an arbitrary and, so 
to say, spiteful fashion. It is true that the con- 
ception IS sometimes so baldly expressed as to 
lend colour to such an interpretation. 

Thus in Herod, vii. 10 Artabanos, the uncle of Xerxes, tries 
to dissuade Xerxes from invadinff Greece : ' Do .vou see how 
God strilies with Uis lightning tliose auimals which rise above 
others, and suffers them not to vaunt themselves, while the 
lowlv do not at all excite Uis jealou8.v? Do you see how He 
hurl's His bolts aj.-ainst the most stately edifices and the most 
loft.\' trees? Tor God is wont to cut down whatsoever is too 
highh' exalted. Thus a great army is often defeated by a s;uall 
number of men; ..uen God in His jealousy (*9oi^(rai) strikes 
them with fear or with thunder, they often perish in a manner 
unworthy of themselves, because God suffers none to be proud 
save Himself.' 

But, while tliis may have been a popular con- 
ception, the underlying idea is a much deeper one. 
It is, in fact, nothing more than the expression of 
the Greek idea of justice, or Dike. The definition 
of justice (Suoioffwj)) which Plato gives in the 
Bcpublic^ is nothing new, but is implied in the 
whole Greek attitude to life, as Plato says : 

OTi yt TO ra avrov Trpdrreiv «ai f^rj jroXinrpayMOfcti' iiKaioryi^ 
e<rri, leai Toim> oAAcgv re iroXAtLf dieijitoaftev Koi avTOi jroXAditic 
clpiixa/iff (433 A). 

Now. as applied to the relation of God and man, 
justice lies in the recognition that the divine and 
the human destinies are utterly unlike. The gods 
and men are alike the children of earth (mother) 
and heaven (father): 'from one source spring 
gods and mortal men' (Hesiod, WorL^ and Days, 
107) ; but the lot of the gods is altogether different 
from that of mankind. Pindar emphasizes this 
distinction in a beautiful passage : 

'One is the race of men, one the race of gods, and from one 
mother do we both have breath. But separate altogether is 
the power [facultv, iiKjenixtin, indoles] that sunders us ; for one 
is naught, but the brazen heaven abides, an habitation un- 
shaken for ever. Yet do we resemble somewhat, in mighty 
mind or in bodilv form, the deathless gods, albeit we know not 
unto what line sovereign Destiny hath appointed us to ran 
cither by day or by night' (.N'cm. vi. Iff.). 

Here we have the two characteristic distinctions 
which the average Greek drew between the gods 
and mankind : the gods are deathless and ageless, 
and untouched of evil ; the years of man are few 
and full of sorrow, and the certain end is death ; 
the gods have knowledge of the future ; for man 
' the river of prevision is set afar' (Pind. Nem. xi. 
46). Now it is implied in the very nature of 
mortality that human life is a chequer-work of 
good and evil. A life of unbroken success, even if 
not attained by or attended witli wickedness, is 
already a breach of nature, an injustice, an en- 
croachment on the attributes of divinity, and so 
excites the jealousy of God, who allows none save 
Himself to be proud. 

A life of uubioken happiness is no portion for 
men : 

' Happy (6X^.0!) is he to whom God hath gi\cn a portion of 
glory (KoXi, esiieciallv success in the national games), and to 
five all his life with enviable fortune and in opulence ; for no 
mortal is happy in all things' (Bacchvlid. v. i.nff.). . 
Hence it is a condition of abiding prosperity tliat a 
man's happiness should not be uniutciTupted ; only 
by being interrupted will it conform to the law of 
nature, the demands of justice r . . u . 

' In thy new success 1 rejoice, but also I am gneved that 
jealousy '[here, human jealousy) requites glorious deeds. Uut 
onlv thus, they say, w ill a man's happiness (tvUiiiovta) prosper 
abidingly, if it wins both these things and those ' (i.e. good and 
evil) (find. Pyth. vii. 14 ff.). ' Not one is without lot in sorrow 
nor shall be; vet tlit ancient prosperity (oA^os) of Baltoo 
attends them, giving them these and those ' (li). v. 64 f.). 



1 oTi ivn iK<umv tr Sioi inirnSntU' . . . «!t 6 avroC n (^voit 
««iTTji«lOTaTiJ wt^VKvla «iii (433 A). 



LIFE AND DEATH (Greek and Roman) 



27 



This is the point of Clytremnestra's woi-ds in 
^sch. Agam. 904 f. : 

'Let there be no jealousy: for many were the evils that we 
endured aforetime.' That is, our present <food fortune should 
not excite jealousy. It i3 but the offset to former adversity. 

So Nikias in Thncyd. vii. 77. 3 : 

'Our calamities are likely to abate : for the enemy have had 
enough success ; and if our expedition provoked the jealousy of 
any of the g:odg, we have now been sufficiently punished.' 

If a man is attended by an unbroken felicity, be 
must restore the balance by a voluntary sacrilice 
of some portion of his happiness. 

This is the point of the famous storj' of Polycrates of Sanios 
(Herod, iii. 4Uff.), His continued prosperity (ei-Tuxia) excited 
the anxiety of his friend Amasis, who wrote to him in these 
terms : ' It is pleasant to hear of the good fortune of a friend 
and ally. But the excess of thy prosperity does not please me, 
because I know how jealous the deity is. As for me, I would 
choose that my affairs and those of my friends should some- 
times be fortunate and sometimes stumble, rather than be for- 
tunate in everything. For I cannot remember that I ever heard 
of a man who was fortunate in everything:, who did not in the 
end finish in utter ruin. Be advised, therefore, by me, and i?i 
view of your jjood fortune do this : think what it is that you 
value most and the loss of which would most gfrieve you, and 
cast it away, so that it may never be seen a<;ain among men ; 
and if after that your good fortune does not alternate with mis- 
fortune, repeat the remedy which you have now from me.' It 
is well known how Polycrates cast a valuable ring into the sea, 
but, unfortunately, afterwards recovered it in the belly of a 
fish — which so convinced Amasis that his friend's ruin was in- 
evitable that he sent a herald to Samos to renounce his friendship 
and dissohe all obligations of hospitality between them, *lest, 
if any great and dreadful calamitj' should befall Polycrates, lie 
might himself be grieved for him, as for a friend.' So in ^sch. 
Again. 1005 ff. : 'A man's destiny while sailing straight strikes 
a hidden reef. And, if betimes fear with well-measured (ev- 
fiiTpov) sling makes jettison of a portion of his goods, the whole 
house sinks not, overladen with woe, nor is the ship engulfed.' 
The epithet * well-measured * suggests the restoration of the 
balance, of the jueVpov which justice demands. The use of 
a-<f)ttS6fj], which is here in its usual sense of 'sling' but else- 
where occurs with the meaning 'bei^el of a ring,' may possibly 
indicate that .^schjlus had in mind the story of Polycrates. 

The crude popular conception of the jealousy of 
the gods is refined by /Eschylus in a remarkable 
passage of tlie Agamemnon : 

'Tliere is an ancient saying spoken of old among men, that a 
man's prosperity (oA^oy), when it grows big. breeds and does 
not die childless, but from great fortune {tvxv) there springs 
for his race insatiable woe. But apart from others I hold an 
opinion of my own. It is the impious deed that breeds others 
like to its own kind, but the lot of the house which observes 
straight justice is blest iji its children for ever. But old pride 
(v/Spis) is wont to breed a young pride that wantons in the woes 
of men, now or anon, whensoever the appointed day of birth 
comes ; breeds, too, that spirit {daCfiuf) unconquerable, unde- 
featable, even unholy boldness (^pacros), dark curses (arai) for 
the house, like unto tlieir parents ' (750 ff.). 

The teaching of .i^schylus amounts to this. It 
is not mere prosperity that is sinful and brings 
evil in its train. ^liischylus would, no doubt, 
admit tliat great prosperity has its temptations, 
that hardly shall a rich man enter into the Kingdom 
of Heaven, as Plato in the Gorgias tells us that the 
incurable souls who are Iiung up in the prison- 
house of Hades as deterrent examples to evildoers 
will mostly be the souls of tyrants and kings and 
potentates and politicians: 'for these, owing to 
the licence whioli they enjoj', commit the greatest 
and most unholy crimes '(525 B). That, in fact, 
.i^schylus had this idea in mind seems to be 
proved by the immediately following words of the 
ode (772 tf.): 

' But Justice (Alio)) shines in smoky homes and honours the 
righteous (efatVijitoc) man ; while from gold-bespangled dwell- 
ings of unclean hands she turns with averted eyes, and goes to 
pious homes, regarding not the power of wealth stamped with 
a false stamp of praise.' 

We find the same thought in Pindar, Pyth, xi. 
50fJ-. : 

* May I desire ijlory by the grace of Heaven, seeldng thinf^s 
possible at my time of life. For, finding that the middle estate 
(Td lUaa.) blooms witli the more abidiug prosperity (6\^o?). I 
dislilie the lot of rlie tyrant and am zealous for the common 
excellences. But the curses of jealousy are warded off, if one 
attaining the hifjhest success and using it quietly avoids dread 
pride. So finds he the verge of death fairer, leaving to his dear 
children the best of possessions, the grace of a good name." 

If, liowever, continuetl prosjierity leads a man to 
pride (i/i/jis), tlieu piide leads to tuither [jiide or 



acts of pride, ami by repetition come boldness 
(flpdao^) and more daring deeds of sin: 'then he 
(^lianged to thonghts of utter daring ; for wretched 
base-devising infatuation, fount of woes, makes 
men bold ( Spao-wei) ' (^■E.scli. Again. -221 ti'.). To the 
(ireek mind the Per.sian invasion of Greece was a 
typical example of pride and the eiiects of pride. 
/Eschylus declares of the Persians who fell at 
Salamis : 

* The heaps of corpses shall dumbl.y declare to the ejes of men 
even to the third generation that a mortal should not think 
thouifhts too high ; for pride flowers, and its fruit is an ear of 
doom (ani), whence it reaps a harvest of tears ' (Pers. 818 ff.). 

The jealousy of God in the OT is exactly parallel 
to the Greek doctrine. It is not a capricious spite, 
but merely the justice which punishes any invasion 
of the prerogatives of the Deity by man : ' I the 
Ijord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the 
iniquity of the fathers upon the children, upon the 
third and upon the fourth generation of them that 
hate me ; and shewing mercy unto thousands, of 
them that love me and keep my commandments' 
(Ex 20''-). One form of the breach of justice is 
that a man should desert the God to wliom he 
belongs and follow after strange gods. Just as the 
civil law recognized the duty owing from a metic 
to his TrpocTTdTvjs, or pati'on, and provided for the 
punishment of tlie neglect of these duties by a oU-q 
dwoaTaalov {Dem. xxv. 6o, xxxv. 48, etc.), so neglect 
of a man's duty to his godslor the following after 
strange gods was dire/3eia, or impietj' (cf. Dt ;i2'°''-). 

The wise and good man is the man who recog- 
nizes the conditions of mortality. The fool refuses 
this recognition and kicks against the pricks. 

'Not for happiness in everything did Atreus beget thee, 
Agamemnon : thou must have grief as well as joy. For thou 
art mortal,' sajs the old man to Agamemnon (Eurip. Iph. in 
AuL 281T.). 'If thou, Hiero, nnderstandest a pithy saying, 
tliou hast heard from them who were of old and knowest that 
for one good the deathless gods give to mortals two evils. This 
fools cannot endure with decency, but only the good, turning 
the fair side out' (Find. Pj/th. i'li. 80ff.). ' We with mortal 
minds should seek from the gods the things that are meet for 
us, knowing that which lies before our feet, to what destiny we 
are born. .Seek not, my soul, deatliless life, but exhaust thy 
practicable means ' (ib. 59 f.). 

Pindar illustrates the doctrine by the story of As- 
clepius, whom Zeus slew with the thvmderbolt be- 
cause he tried to bring a man (Hippolytus) back 
from the dead — an attempt to overstep the limits 
of mortality, and therefore demanding punishment. 
The same story is referred to bj' ^'Esch. Agam. 
984 ff., in a passage which excellently illustrates 
the Greek doctrine : 

Excessive prosperity demands voluntary jettison, says 
•Eschylus. Tlien lie proceeds : ' Abundant bounty given of 
Zeus from the yearly' field destroys the plague of famine. But 
the blood of death that has once fallen on the ground at a man's 
fcet^-who shall call that back by any incantation? Did not 
Zeus for safety's sake [i.e. repelling an invasion of his divine 
prerogative of imniortalit.\ ] stop him who was skilled to bring 
back from the dead ? And were it not that one fate is appointed 
by the gods to check another fate from -^roing too far, my 
tongue would have outrun my heart,' etc. All life is based on 
the principle of justice, compensation, balance, that each should 
have his own. 

Hence, too, it is to d?ri Tvxnt, the gifts of good- 
luck, that excite jealousy, not the good things 
which are won by toil. 

The doctrine of the jealousy of the gods is re- 
pudiated as a ' poetic falsehood ' by Aristotle, Met. 
1. 2, 983». 

The things which make up human happiness are, 
according to Solon, adequate endowment of worldly 
goods, health, beauty of person, prosperous chil- 
dren, and a death in accord with these goods. 

This enumeration of the elements of happiness 
is consonant with general Greek feeling. Similar 
catalogues occur frequently. Thus the distich 
inscribed in the temple of Leto at Delos (Aristotle, 
Eth. Ewhm. 1214' 1 If., Eth. Nic. i. 8, lOSff" 25) : 

' Fairest ((coAAjarov) is justice, best {\i2a-Tov) is health, and 
sweetest (^fiicrrof) of all is to attain what one desires.' 
The same order is given iu Theoynis, '256 f. (cf . 



28 



LIFE AND DEATH (Greek and Roman) 



Sophocles, frag. 328 f.). A popular scoliov, or 
drinking-sonK, says : ' 

' Health is best for a mortal man ; second, to be fair of body 
l^ivav uoAot) ; third, to liavc wealth vvilliout guile ; fourth, to be 

ioung with one's friend-*.' 
'liilemon, fra^'. 163, gives (1) liealtli, (2) success 
(tPT/ioJ/a), (3) joy (xa(/ieii'), and (4) to owo no man. 
Pindar {Pi/t/i. i. 99 f.) says : 

'Success (ti iruStri-, practi''.all.v = prosperity or h^ppine^s) is 
the flrstof prizes ; a (atr fame (tv aKoveiv) is the second lot ; he 
who hath clmnecd on both .ind taken them to be his hath 
received the hitflio-st crown.' Cf. Islh. iv. 12, v. 13, A'cm. i. 33, 
ix. 46, Pi/Ci. iii. 104; Aristoph. Ar. BKi ; Soph. Oi'd. CoM4J ; 
rhocylid. frog. 10 ; Theocrit. X'ii. 110 ; Bacchylid. i. 27 ff. 

Acconling to Aristi)tlc, li.appiness is an ei/ipyeia 
Kar &peH)v. But he admits, in Kth. Nic. 1. 8, that 
' nevertlieless it does appear that happiness has 
need also of the external goods as aforesaid. For 
it is impossible or not easy for a man unprovided 
with these to do noble tlihigs. For many things are 
performed by friends, wealth, political power, the 
instruments, as it were, of action. The lack of 
some things mars happiness— the lack of birth, 
children, beauty. You could not well apply the 
term "happy" to a man who was utterly ugly, or 
lowborn, or solitary and childless. Again, leas 
still, if his children or his friends are altogether 
bad, or if he had gooil friends or children who are 
now dead. As we have said, happiness seems to 
need .«uch outward prosperity. Hence some identify 
good fortune {ciiTuxia-) with happiness, others 
identify hap])iness witli virtue (aper-fj).' In the 
liheiurk (i. 5), where happiness is defined more 
popularly, sucli ' external ' goods as the above are 
termed ' parts of happiness,' and the list is evyivaa, 
To\vipi\tat XPV<^^^^^^^^] irXoOros, evTCKvia, TroXi^re/crfa, 
fvyripla ; the physical excellences, as iryUia, kAXXos, 
iVx''?, p.4y€6oSi dvi'aniS dyuptaTiKii ; and dd^a, Tifirj, 
cuTvx^OL} riper?}. 

He proceeds to explain what he means by the 
several terms here employed. 

(a) evyifeta, good birth, may be predicated of a 
nation or a State, or of an individual. As applied 
to a nation or a State, it means that it Is auto- 
chthonous or at any rate ancient, and had as its 
earliest leaders distinguished men, and has had 
many distinguished members in the course of its 
history. As applied to an individual, it refers to 
descent on either the male or the female side ; it 
implies legitimacy, i.e. both father and motlier 
must be citizens (00-765, icrri) in lawful wedlock 
(Arist. Pol. iii. 1. 4 f. ; Dem. adv. Near.; 
Aristoph. Av. 1660 fl.) ; it imijlies, further, that the 
earliest ancestors of tlie family were famous for 
virtue or wealth or some such distinction, and tlint 
many members of the family, both men and 
women, have in the course of its history distin- 
guished themselves. 

The high importance attached to heredity is 
evident on every page of Greek literature (see art. 

PiNDAK). 

(b) iroXvcpMa and xp'!<""<'0'^'<'i the possession of 
many and good friends, a friend being delined as 
' one who, if he consider anything to be good for 
another, is ready to do it for the other's sake ' 
(Arist. lihct., loc. cit.). Friendship takes a promi- 
nent place in the Greek ideal of life. 

' Of alt kinds are the uses of friends ; above all in trouble, but 
joy also seeks to behold its own assurance* (I'indar, Nein. vlii. 
42 (T.). ' To cast away a ^ood friend I count even as that a man 
should cast away the life in his own bosom, which he loves 
most' (Soph. <Ji<l. Rex, Oil t.). 

We hear of many celebrated f rieud.ships — Achilles 
and Patroclus, Orestes and I'ylades, Castor and 
Pollux. The last is the theme of one of the most 
beautiful of Pindar's i)oemB, Ncm. x. 

When Castor, the mortal one of the Twins, is slain, Pollux 
.i4ks to be allowed to die with him : * Grant mc, O Lord, to die 

1 Plato, (•oni. 451 E. Lf!i{j. 631 0, 001 A ; ct. schol. Gorg., loc. 
fit. : ' this acoUoH is attributed by some to Simonides, by others 
to Epicbarmus.' 



with him ! .\ man's honour is departed when he is reft of big 
friends, and few there be that are faithful in the dtt\ of trouble 
to share the travail' (76 fr.). 

The false friend is the object of bitter scorn 
(Pind. Isth. ii. 11 ; /Ksch. A gam. 798, etc.). We 
liear, of course, of a more cynical view, that one 
should alwaj's look upon a friend as a possible 
enemy (Soph. Aj. 67711'. ; Eurip. Hippol. 25311'.). 

(c) TrXoPros, wealth. 

[d) cvTCKfia and iroXiTcKfta : these may be pre- 
dicated cither of the community or of the in- 
dividual. In the case of the community, they 
mean the possession of a numerous body of splendid 
youth, splendid jihysically — in stature, beauty, 
strength, and .ithletic prowess — and splendid 
morally, the moral qualities desirable in a young 
man being self-restrttint and courage. In the case 
of the individual, they inildy that his children, male 
and female, arp many and good. In a \\oman, the 
physical excellences are beauty and stature ; the 
moral excellences are 'self-control and industry 
without illilierality ' {(pi\epyia dyev dceXfD0c/)ia$). 

'The high bUni_'.ard of female excellence is very important 
for the state ; for where the condition cf the women is vicious, 
as at Lacediemon, there is no happiness in half the state.' 

The import.ance of having children lies partly 
ill keeping property within the family, since the 
bitterest thought of the childless man when dying 
is that bis wealth will go to an outsider : 

' Even as a child by his wife is longed 'or by his father who 
has reached the other side of youth, and greatly warms his 
heart, since wealth that falls to an outside alien's keeping is 
most hateful for a dying man ' (I'ind. Ot. x. [xi.] 94 ff.) ; 

partly in that there will be no one to pay the 
memorial offerings to the dead (ivayhfiara.). Those 
nioti\es find their consequence in the frequency of 
adoption (eio-Trodjo-is).' 

(c) ei'ynpla, a good old age. This denotes an old 
age which approaches gradually and without ' pain ' ; 
if it comes rapidly, or slowly but accompanied with 
l>ain, it is not a good old age. This requires both 
physical excellences and good fortune. It is in- 
compatible with weakness or disease, and a man 
must have good fortune to live long and remain 
dXvtros. ' It is indeed true that some attain long 
life without ph3-sical excellences.' 

(/) The physical excellences: (1) vyleia, health, 
i.e. freedom from disease, full possession of bodily 
faculties. Such valetudinarianism as that of 
llerodicus (Plato, lii.p. iii. 406) is not desirable, as 
it means the denial of all, or nearly all, human 
)ile,asures. (2) kAWos, be.auty. A different kind of 
licauty is approjiriate to diff'erent jieriods of life : the 
young man must be adtiptcd to exercises of speed 
tiiid strength, and jdetisant and delightful to look 
upon. Hence pentatliletes are most beautiful. 
The man in the |irime of life must be lit for military 
exercises, combining grace with sternness in his 
appearance. The old man must be equal to such 
exertions as are inevitable, and his appearance 
must not be repulsive, i.e. must be free from the dis- 
ligurements of age. (3) taxiJi, stren"th. (4) i-UytBoi, 
stature— but not so as to be unwieldy. (5) SwapM 
ayuvKTTiKi), athletic excellence — size, strength, 
speed ; good running, wrestling, and boxing. 

1 Ct. Isicus, ii. 45ff. : 'I have shown you that the laws give 
power to childless men to adopt sons. It is clear, moreover, 
that I paid attention to bim while he lived and buried him when 
he died. My opponent Avishcs to turn me out of my father's 
estate, be it great or small ; wishes to make the dead man 
childless and nameless, so that tliere shall be none to honour in 
his behalf the ancestral holies, none to make annual offerings 
to him (ci'ayiVi) avTtf Ka&' tKatrro*- iviavT6v), but to rob him Of 
his honours. 'Providing for Ihi-), Menecles, being master of his 
liroperty, adopted a hon. that he might get these things. Do 
not, then, be persuuiled bv these men to rob me of the title of 
heirship, which is all that is left, and make my adoption by him 
invalid. Hut, since the matter has come to you and you have 
power to (lisjiose ol it, help us and hehi him who is now in the 
house of Hades and do not. in the u.une ot i^ods and ddniniiifi, 
allow liiin to be insulted by thcni' (see, fuither art. ADoI•Tlo^ 
iUreeliJ). 



LIFE AND DEATH (Greek and Roman) 



29 



ig) 56{a or eMofi'a, i.e. to be regarded as a good 
inaii ((TToi'ooros). or as ' the possessor of sometTiing 
which all men or most meu or good men or wise 
men desire.' 

{h) rt/iri, or honour, i.e. honours paid for bene- 
factions either great in themselves or great in 
the circumstances (cf. Dem. adv. Lept. % 41). Such 
honours are sacrifices, memorials in verse and prose, 
priyileges, allotments in land, foremost seats on 
public occasions, tombs, statues, maintenance at 
the public charges, barbaric compliments — e.g., 
prostrations and giving place — local compliments. 
Ti;ua(, as being both honourable and valuable in- 
trinsically, appeal equally to the 0iXoxp'i/«'"'O5 and 
the (piXoTifjios. 

(i) evrvx't; or good fortune. It is the gifts of 
fortune that especially excite envy. 

(/) ipiTq, virtue. This is discussed in lihet. ch. 
ix. Virtue is not merely desirable — as gifts of Tvx'n 
— but also ewaiveToi'. It is 'a faculty of providing 
and preserving good things and a faculty of con- 
ferring benefits,' and its elements are justice, 
bravery, self-control, 'magnificence' {ij.cya\o- 
vp^ireia), highmiudedness, liberality, gentleness, 
wisdom practical (0p6i»7)iris) and speculative ((ro0ia). 

The virtues which go to make up virtue, the 
H^prj apeTjji, are given by Aristotle in the Rhct. 
i. 9 as 5iK'atO(7"t''y?;, dvSpia, ffw^poffiiVT}, fxeyaXoTrpiireta, 
/iryaXo^i'X^a, iXevdepidTijs, Trpahr-qi, ^pdvijais, <ro(f>la. 
Plato, Hep. 402 C, gives <7oj<ppoauv7i, dvdpeia, fieyaXo- 
Trp^Treia, iXevdepi&r-qi, /cat Bija tovtwv dSeXtpd, Mono, 
73 E - 74 A, dt.KaiO(Tvvri, dvdpela, (ruippoavvTi, ffO(pia, 
fj-eyaXoirp^Treta Kal fiXXai TrdjuTroXXat. 

The four cardinal virtues, according to Plato, are 
courage, justice, temperance, and wisdom (Eep. 
427 E) ; but the sovereign virtue, which involves 
all these,' is justice, which, as we have seen, Plato 
defines as t6 to. aurou TrpaTretP Kal fiTj TroXvirpayfiove'ii'.^ 

In the famous passage of Pindar {Nein. iii. 74 fi'.) 
the first three virtues are that of youth, that of 
men, and that of the old, while the fourth seems 
to be nothing else than justice, which is the sove- 
reign and governing principle of all the rest : i\q. 
di Kal r^<7f7apas dpercts 6 Bvar^s al<j}v, tppovilv d' iv^iret, 
t6 TvapKelfL^vov = Th rd avrov irpdrTeiv. 

However this may be, justice includes all the 
other virtues. And the moral conscience of man 
demands in the name of justice that the just man 
shall have his reward. So Hesiod, Works and 
Days, 270 ff. : 

* Now may neither I nor son of mine be Juflt among men I 
For it is an iU thing to be just, if the unjust shall have the 
greater justice. Howbeit these things I deem not that Zeus will 
bring to pass.' Injustice may prevail for a time, but justice is 
better in the end {ib. 217 f.). *0n that which is pleasant but 
contrary to justice a most bitter end awaits' (Find. Isth. vi. 
47 f.). 'Too swift are the minds of men to accept a guileful 
gain in preference to justice, albeit they travel to a harsh 
reckoning' (rpaveiav k-ni^a-v [Find. Fyth. iv. 139 ff.]). On the 
other hand, end and beginning are aliite pleasant if God 
speed. 

How. then, and where shall it be better for 
the just man ? The tyj)ical answer of the Greek 
moralist is 'Here and in this life.' Hesiod ex- 
presses the prevailing view of the Greek as of the 
Hebrew wisdom when he says : 

' But whoso to stranger and to townsman deal straight judg- 
ments, and no whit depart from justice, their city flourisheth, 
and the people prosper therein. And in their land is peace, the 
nurse of children, and Zeus doth never decree war for them. 
Neither doth Famine ever consort with men who deal straight 
judgments, nor Doom ; but with mirth they tend the works 
that are their care. For them earth beareth much livelihood, 
and on the hills the oak's top beareth acorns, the oaks midst 
bees ; their fleecy sheep are heavy with wool ; their wives bear 
children like unto their parents ; they flourish with good things 
continually, neither go thev on ships, but bounteous earth 
beareth fruit for them ' (Works and Days. 226 ff.). 

Even so the punishment of the wicked is in this 

iyytvofi.^voii ye o'wnjpi'av iTap^\€tv, ftuanep av efjj {Rep. 433 B). 

3 Rep. 433 A ; cf. Aristotle, Ehet. i. 9. 7, eom M intaiotnii'i) 
fUv apcTi) fit* fjv ri avrui' eica(rTOt e\QVff^ Kai us o v6p.oi. 



world, whether in their own persons or in the 
persons of their descendants : 

' But whoso ensue e\ 11, insolence, and froward works, for them 
doth Zeus of the far-seeing eye, the son of Cronus, decree 
justice. Yea, oftentimes a whole city reapeth the recompense 
of the evil man, who einneth and worketh the works of foolish- 
ness. On them doth the son of Cronus brin'^ from heaven a 
grievous visitation, even famine and plague together, and the 
people perish. Their women bear not children ; their houses 
decay by devising of Olympian Zeus ; or anon he destroyeth a 
great host of them, within a wall it may be, or the son of 
Cronus taketh vengeance on their ships in "the sea' (ib. 23811.). 

In Bepiiblic, 3fi3 At{., Plato discusses this view 
of justice and its rewards. Goods are classified as 
of three sorts : { 1 ) those desirable for their own 
sakes, (2) those desirable for their own sakes and 
for their consequences, and (3) those desirable for 
their consequences alone. Whereas Socrates would 
place justice in the second of these classes, the 
many would place it in the third. Popular morality 
says that justice is desirable because it leads to 
reward in this life — a position which is open to the 
objection that ' seeming to be just ' is preferable to 
' being just.' Parents exhort their children to be 
just for the sake of office and other advancement, 
and because, according to Hesiod (loc. cit.) and 
Homer (Od. xix. 109 ff'.), the gods prosper the just 
in this life. Then follows a striking passage : 

'Still grander are the gifts of heaven which Musaeus and his 
son (Eumolpus) otfer to the just : they take them down into 
the world below, where they have the saints lying on couches 
at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with garlands ; their 
idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the 
highest reward of virtue. Some extend their rewards yet 
further ; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful and just 
shall survive to the third and fourth generation. This is the 
style in which they praise justice. But about the wicked there 
is another strain ; they bury them in a slough in Hades, and 
make them carry water in a sieve ; also while they are yet living 
they bring them to infamy, and inflict upon them the punish- 
ments which Glaucon described as the portion of the just who 
are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does their invention 
supply.' 

According to Homeric eschatology, there remains 
for the dead only a shadowy existence in a dim 
under world, in dank places which even the gods 
abhor. This life after death, If it can be called 
life, holds nothing lovely or desuable : 

* Speak not comfortably to me of Death, glorious Odysseus. 
Rather would I be on earth a servant with a landless man of no 
great livelihood than king over all the dead which are perished ' 
(Od. xi. 488 ff.). 

There seems to be no distinction of destiny 
between the good and the wicked, except, indeed, 
that perjury is said to be punished in the world 
below {II. iii. 279, xix. 260). We have, it is true, 
some traces of a brighter fancy. 

The poets told of an ' Elysian plain at tlie ends of earth, where 
fair-haired Rhadanianthus is ; where lite is most easy for men ; 
neither snow nor great storm nor rain is there, but ever as the 
shrill West wind blows, Ocean sends forth breezes to refresh 
men ' (Od. iv. 663) ; but Uomer assigns this fate only to 
Menelaus, 'to whom it was decreed that he should not die nor 
meet his fate in Argos, the pastureland of horses,' because he 
' had Helen to wife and was the son-in-law of Zeus.' They told 
of certain Islands of the Blest far in the Western Ocean where 
the heroes of the Theban and Trojan Wars dwelt under the 
kindly rule of Cronus — ' happy (oA^to^) heroes, for whom the 
bounteous earth bears honeysweet fruit, blooming thrice a 
year ' (Hesiod, Works and Daifs, 166 ff. ; cf. also art. Blbst, 
Abode of toe [Greek and Roman]). 

But such a lot was apparently reserved for the 
heroes of old, who, without suiTering dissolution of 
soul and body, were by the favour of the gods 
transported to a terrestrial paradise. 

The introduction to Greece of mystic and orgi- 
astic worship, and the rise of the Orphic and 
Pythagorean teaching towards the end of the 6th 
cent., gave a new and heightened meaning to the 
doctrine of the soul's survival after death. In the 
mysteries, of which those at Eleusis were the most 
celebrated, it would seem that a fairer prospect 
was oft'ered to the initiated— a reward for right- 
eousness in a life of perpetual felicity beyond the 
grave. Hence we find in Pindar, alongside of the 
language of orthodox Greek belief, glimpses of a 
larger and brighter hope, expressed in passages 



30 



LIFE AND DEATH (Greek and Roman) 



wliioli uie among the most striking ia the range of 
Cireek literature : 

'Wealth adorned with deeilsol prowess . . . is a conspicuous 
BUr, ft most true li;;ht for a man, it he that hatli it knoweth 
that which is to come : that the helpless minds of the dead pay 
8traiKlill.v here their penance, while the sins done in this liinK- 
dom of Zeus one judges under earth, pronouncing doom by 
abhorred constraint. But equally evermore by nii;ht and day 
the good enjoy the sun, reccivin^j a life free from toil, vexin;; 
not the earth with might of hand, neither the waters of the sea 
in that ghostly life, but with the honoured of the gods they 
that rejoiced in keeping their oaths live a tearless life, while 
tiiose otliers endure woe too dire to behold. LJut whoso thrice 
on either side have endured to refrain their souls utterly from 
unrighteousness, travel by the Way of Zeus unto the tower of 
Cronus, where round the Islands of the Blest the Ocean breezes 
blow, and (lowers of gold are glowing, some on the land from 
glorious trees, w hile others the water feedeth, with wreaths and 
garlands whereof they entwine their hands by the true counsels 
of ithadamanlhns. whom the father Cronus hath as his ready 
assessor, Cronus, husband of Ithea, throned highest of all. 
Peleus and Cadmus are numbered among these, and thither his 
mother brought Achilles, when she had with her prayers 
persuaded the heart of Zeus ' (01, ii. 58flf.). 

Pindar '.s teacliing here appears to be that the 
soul pas.^os through three successive incarnations, 
alternating witli a ilisembodieil slate, and that 
only after passing through all these blamelessly 
is it llually redeemed. Such souls, according to 
anotlicr pas.sage of I'indar (frag. 133), receive a 
fin.'il embodiment as kings and wise men and 
athletes, and after death become, not indeed gods, 
but heroes : 

* From wiiom Persephone in the ninth year accepts the atone- 
ment of ancient woe, the souls of them she sends back into the 
upper sunliu'ht. From them spring glorious kings and men 
swift and strong and mightiest in wisdom; and for the future 
they are called by men holy heroes.' 

Again, in frag. 137 Pindar says, in reference to 
the raj'steries : 

'Happy is he who Ijeholds these things before he goeslteueath 
the earth ; he knows the end of life, he knows its god-given 
beginning.' 

According to this view, the soul lives on after 
death, it alone being of divine oricin : 

'By happy dispensation (oA^tV at<rn) all travel to an end 
which sets free from woe. And the body, indeed, of all goes 
with mighty Death. But there remaineth alive a phantom of 
Ufe ; for that alone Cometh from the gods. It sleepeth when 
the limbs are active, but to men asleep in many a dream it 
reveals the coming judgment of pleasant things and hard.' 
For the souls of the good there awaits a paradise 
which is imagined in terms of human bliss : 

' For them shines the strength of the sun below while here it 
is night. And in meadows of red roses their suburb is shady 
with frankincense and laden with golden fruits. And some in 
horses, some in games, some in draughts, some in the lyre t.ike 
their delight, and by them flourisheth all the fair flower of 
bless:;aMess. And a fragrance spreads above the lo\ely i)lace, 
while tliey evermore mingle all m.inner of incense in far-shining 
Gre on the altars of the gods * (f nig. l-li). 

' l!y happy dispensation'! Strange, indeed, 
woulit this have sounded to the Homeric hero, and 
hardly less strange, it would seem, to the orthodox 
Greek of the .5th century. It is not easy to e^^ti- 
mate how far the ideas to which Pindar hero gives 
e.xpre-ssiou had all'ected the general body of his 
countrymen, but it would not appear tliat they 
had done so very deeply. The general attitude to 
death continues much as in Homer. A state of 
bliss after death is not held out as an incentive 
to righteousness in this world. Nor is the hope 
of a blessed immortality otiered to comfort the 
dying or mitigate the grief of the bereaved. 
\Vlien death is spoken of as desirable, it is merely 
as a Kaxuiv KaTCKpvyi, a refuge from evil, a dream- 
less sleep : 

■ Would that some fate might come, speedy, not over-painlul. 
nor with lingering bed, bringing to us the everlasting, endle-^s 
sleep ! ' (*8ch. Aijam. 14J8 tl.). 

It does not seem probable that the conception of 
the state after death exercised any determining 
influence on the average man's conduct of his life. 

When one attempts to discuss Roman views of 
life and death, there occurs at the outset the com- 
parative paucity of genuinely Itoman evidence. 
The general attitude of the Itoinan towards life 
and death presupposes the same general frame- 



work a.s we have outlined in the cjtsc ol (jreece ; 
the same conception of the goods which make up 
the content of human hapinness ; the same con- 
ception of death (IS the end and not the beginning ; 
(he same belief in the duty of paying solemn oller- 
ings {/xtrcntalia) to the dead. AViien we advance 
beyond orthodox opinion to the region of poetic 
fancy or philosophic speculation, we tind that we 
are merely encountering Greek ideas in a Roman 
dress. 

Greek and Roman alike believed in gods who 
had a very real regard for the sins and the virtues 
of mankind, rewarding the good and punishing 
the evil, hut in this life, in their own persons or in 
those of their immediate descendants. Greek and 
Roman alike believed that the dead in some sense 
survive .and that it was the duty of the living to 
make ollerings to the dead. Bat for Roman as 
for Greek, the after-world was but a dim shadow 
of the present. There was no lively conviction 
that it would fare worse in the after-worhl with 
the bad than M'ith the good ; there was no lively 
conviction tliat there was any true after-life at all, 
certainly no such conviction of an immortal felicity 
as could prompt to martyrdom or self-saorilice, or 
alleviate the liimr of bereavement with the hope of 
a blessed reunion hereafter. When Cicero lost by 
death his beloved daughter TuUia, in the letter of 
condolence written to him by his friend Servius 
Sulpicius {acl Fam. iv. 5) the topics of consolation 
are drawn from practical and secular considera- 
tions : that she has been taken away from tlie evil 
to come, and tliat she has but shared the common 
lot, not of individuals only, but of cities : 

' Kx Asia rediens. cum ,ab jligina Megaram versus navigarem, 
coepi regiones circumcirca prospicere ; post me erat /Egina, 
ante nie .Megara, dextra Pirajus, sinistra Corinthus ; qua* 
oppida quodam tempore florentissima fuerunt, nunc prostnata 
et diruta ante oculos iacent. Ctepi egomet meoum sic cogitare : 
"hem ! nos homunculi indignamur, si quis nostnun intcriit aut 
occisus est, quorum vita brevior esse debet, cinu uno loco tot 
oppidum cadavera proiecta iacent? visne tu te, Servi, cohibere 
et meminisse hominem te esse natum ? " ' 

Nor in Cicero's most touching reply is there any 
hint of other consolation. 

Nothing, perhaps, in the consideration of the 
conception of life and death is more signilicant 
than the attitude adopted in the question of 
suicide. The general feeling both in tireece and 
in Rome seems to have been one of pity for the 
suicide rather than condemnation. Thus, e.g., 
Pindar, who three times refers to the suicide of 
Ajax, in no case hints at any moral wrong in the 
act, nor does Sophocles in the case of Jocasta. 
And the fact that Aristotle, in his IIoXiTfia Gi/.Saluc 
(1.553'' 31 f.), and other writers noted that suicide 
was condemned by the Thebans points clearly to a 
ditlereni atlilude on the part of the Greeks in 
general. Natutally the Orphic-Pythagorean school, 
insisting on the reality of a true existence con- 
ditioned for weal or won by the account of the 
present life, condemned suicide. In the Pluedo, 
til 11., Plato .says that the good man will desire to 
be dead in order to free his soul from the cumbering 
influence of the body, which hinders him in the 
pursuit of truth : ' only, perliaps, he will not do 
violence to himself, for this, they say, is not law- 
ful ' [oil Se.uiToi') ; and he proceeds to refer to a 
'secret doctrine' (fv dTo/)/)>iro!s Xf7(5/ieyos \670s) that 
man is here ' in a sort of prison ' (Iv tivi 4>povpif), 
from which he has no right to free himself or run 
away' (cf. Cicero, Cat. Mnj. '20; Plato, Vhadr. 
250 C, C'lnli/I. iW C, Uorgias, 493 A). Macrobius 
{Cumm. ill .s'om;i. Scip. i. 13) tells us that Plotinus 
objected to suicide on two grounds : (1) it implies 
a perturbed state of mind at the moment of dis- 
solution ; (2) it is a step which, once taken, is 
irretrievable. On the other hand, in the Laws, 
854 C, Plato recognizes that in certain circum- 



LIFE AND DEATH (Hebrew) 



31 



stances suicide is a duty. Sacrilege, lie tells us, is 
au inlieiited malady. 

When .1 man is tempted to commit such an offence, he should 
' ^o and perform expiations, go as a suppliant to tlie temples of 
the gods who avert evils, go to the society of those who are 
called good men amongst you ; hear them tell, and yourself try 
to repeat after them, that every man should honour the noble 
and the just. Fly from the company of the wicked — fly and 
turn not back ; and if your disease is lightened by these 
remedies, well and good ; but if not, then acknowledge death 
to be nobler than life, and depart hence.' 
.Similarly Cicero, cle OJpc. i. 31, liolds that in the 
same circumstances suicide is for one man a duty, 
for another a crime. A man must decide in con- 
sonance with his character. Thus Cato committed 
suicide, as did Ajax ; Ulysses did not. 

Tills question, like the question of the life after 
death, seems to have been in general considered 
open. It is always to be remembered that religi- 
ous formuke and religious practices lag behind the 
true and genuine beliefs of those who practise them, 
and ritual is an unsafe index of the inner meaning 
of t!ie worshipper. Thus we bear much of oracles 
in Greek history, and undoubtedly they exercised 
an enormous influence. Yet even so early as 
Homer we find it considered an open question 
whether one should obey an oracle or not : 

' If it were some other and a child of earth that bade me this, 
whether some seer or of the priests that divine from sacrifice, 
then would we declare it false and rather turn our backs upon 
if(/;. xxiv. 220fl.)- 

In Hector's mouth is put the famous declaration 
that ' One omen is best — to figlit for one's country ' 
(n. xii. 243). So in Rome Ca'sar, while holding 
the oitice of Pontifex Maxinius, delivered himself 
in the Senate of the doctrine that after death there 
was no place either for trouble or for joy : 

* In luctu atque miseriis mortem a^rvnnnarum requiem, 
non cruciatum, esse ; earn cuncta mortaliuni mala dissolvere ; 
ultra neque curie neque gaudio locum esse ' (Sail. Catil. li.). 
So widely divorced, indeed, was outward practice 
from inward belief that Cato ' wondered how, 
when one soothsayer met another, he could help 
laughing ' (Cicero", de Div. ii. 52). But the better 
minds, persuaded as they were tliat death meant 
either extinction or a true afterlife in which tlie 
good should fare better than the wicked, prepared 
themsehes for the great change much in the spirit 
of the Platonic Socrates, by setting their liouse in 
order. Thus Cicero : 

' Id spero vivis nobis fore. Quamquam tempus est noB 
de perpetua Ula iam, tion de hac exigua vita cogitare* (ad AU. 
X. 8). 

See, further, art. Happiness (Greek and Pioman). 

LlTER.\TURE. — C. A. Lobeck, Aglaophamus, Konigsberg, 
1829 ; E. Rohde, Psyche^, Tubingen, 1907 ; E. Buchholz, Die 
sittliche WclfanschauiDig des Plndaros und Ai^cht/lot;, Leiii;-.i'," 
1869 ; J. A. Stewart, Mj/ths of Plato, London, 19U6 ; John 
Masson, Lucretius, Epicurean and Poet, do. 1907 ; G. L. 
Dickinson, The. Greek View of Life, do. 1896. 

A. W. Maie. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Hebrew).— There are 
two words which in the English UT are very often 
translated 'life': nep/ics/i and hai/i/im. Ncphcsh 
denotes the inner occult cause of life's activities. 
A luphesh is a concrete entity, resident in the 
body, which, if scarcely coming witiiin the range 
of man's senses, is at any rate thinkable. It is a 
psj'chical something, endowed with many attri- 
butes, of which life is the chief, though it may 
also have otiiers, physical and psychical. Hmjijim 
represents life abstractly, as a state or condition — 
vitality, mental and moral activity. 

I. Nephesh. — UT psychology has always been a 
crux for Biblical scholars, because tliej' have too 
often desired (as Franz Delitzsch) to form a 
' system ' of Biblical psychology. They have too 
often expected to find everj'where the same grade 
of civilization and the same type of ajiproach and 
outlook. They hive presupposed far more uni- 
formity of thought than is actually present, and 
have not (until recently) allowed for primitive, 
ethnic modes of conception. The word nephesh 



is found ill all Semitic languages, in much the 
same senses as in Hebrew ; and therefore we 
must not be surprised if some extremely primitive 
beliefs, not tauglit — perhaps even discouraged — as 
doctrines by the men who were organs of revela- 
tion, have survived in occasional metaphors or 
modes of speech. 

Tliere were three ways in which the phenomena 
of life were regarded by early n>an : (1) objectively, 
by external observation, noting the manifestations 
of life in other men and in animals ; (2) subjec- 
tively, by self-consciousness, through which man 
became aware of many diHcreut emotions and 
appetites, thoughts, and activities which were 
taking place within him ; and (3) by the conscious- 
ness that he was being acted on by forces or 
beings extraneous to himself. We can scarcely 
point to a time when man did not fancy himself 
an object of interest, often of assault, to spirits 
good or evil, by whom he was surrounded. M'hen 
the external influence came gently, the Hebrew 
called it n'shOindh, ' breath ' ; when \-iolently, he 
called it i-ilah, ' wind ' ; and that part of his nature 
which was accessible to these gentle or violent 
invasions, by God or by spirits, he called respec- 
tively his n'shdmCth and his ruah. 

(1) The objective method. — Life is the antithesis 
of death ; and from the beginning the thoughts of 
man were directed to the phenomena of life by 
their startling contrast -with death. There were 
two ways in which deatli must have impressed 
primeval man : as the cessation of breathing, and 
as being caused by the shedding of blood. 

(«) The universal and inevitable accompaniment 
of death is cessation of breathing ; and this, by 
the force of contrast, would certainlj- direct the 
close attention of early man to the phenomena of • 
breathing : the rising and falling of the chest, 
the varying rapidity of the inhalations, in rest 
and exercise, and the vapour ^•isible from the 
mouth and nostrils at every exiialation. How- 
did he account for this? Beyoml all doubt, on 
principles of animism, which ascribed all internal 
movement, energy, and activity to an indwelling, 
living entity. A'ephesh is often defined as ' the 
inner principle of life.' The vague term ' princijile,' 
however, is much too modern. Early man 
personalized all our abstractions. The cause of 
breathing to him — and thus the cause of life — 
was a living spirit or .soul, dwelling in man's 
chest, the breath-soul, which Semites called the 
nephesh, i.e. a semi-physical, semi-spiritual some- 
thing, a potent reality, not to be identified with 
the breath, but the occult cause of the breathing ; 
and, when it left the body for a considerable time, 
death was tlie result. To die, or 'yield up the 
ghost,' is to 'breathe out the nephesh' (.lev 15', 
Job 11-"). When Kachel was tlying and gave a 
name to her infant son, ' her nephesh was depart- 
ing ' (Gn 35'"). When Elijah prayed for the 
recovery of the Shunaniiiiite's son, he stretched 
himself on the child and tlie child's nephesh came 
into him again (I K 17"-). When the Psalmist is 
sinking in a morass and in danger of drowning, he 
cries, ' Save me, for the waters are come in even 
unto mj' soul ' (Ps 69'). 

(6) The second startling phenomenon of life was 
the pulse, and the beat of the heart, which ceased 
when the blood was shed, in battle or in any other 
way. The occult cause of the heart-beat was 
conceived to be another nephesh — the blood-soul, 
resident in the blood ; and, when the blood was 
shed, the nephesh was released. The shedding of 
blood received much scrutiny and thought in 
connexion with sacrifice, and the Hebrew priests 
assigned tire efficacy of sacrifice to the blood-soul. 
"This is most accurately expressed in Lv 17", 'The 
nephesh of the flesh is tn the blood. . . . The blood 



32 



LIFE AND DEATH (Hebrew) 



iiiakelli atout'iuout by reason of the iiephesh,' mure 
laxly in Dt 12-'', 'The blood is the ncphcsh.' This 
is eliicidated in Lv 17", where we read, ' The 
nephesli of all llesh is its blood, by reason of its 
nephcsh' (so Kn., Kal. ), i.e. wo may say that the 
blood 1.9 the; iicphish of the flesh, if we bear in 
mind tliat tlierc is a ncp/nsh resident in the blood, 
which is tlie cause of the vitiUity of the blood, and 
therefore also of the flesh. Hence the repellent 
feature in eating the llosh of animals whose blood 
had not been shed before death was that, in eating 
such flesh, from which the nephesh bad not been 
allowed to escape, one wonld eat the nephesh, and 
this is strongly forbidden in the words : ' But flesh 
with the nephesh . . . shall j'e not eat' (Gn 9* ; cf. 
Dt 12=»). 

Human nature was not at first considered as a 
unitj', but attention was directed to the centres of 
activity, where a mysterious energy was at work ; 
and, long before man used the word nephesh as we 
use the word 'soul,' the several organs were con- 
sidered separately, as so many independent centres 
of vitality. The heart, the liver, the kidney:?, 
and the eye were regarded as distinct potencies,' 
endowed with life, not interrelated or unified one 
with another. The word nephesh is not used in the 
OT of the cause of the vitality resident in each of 
these organs, but it wonld be quite analogous to 
the ideas of other ancient peoples if they did 
ascribe to each a nephesh. 

It was a very general belief in old times that a 
nephesh might go out from its abode without 
causing death for some considerable time. What 
is to us poetry and metaphor was in the hoary 
past often accepted as solid fact, as, e.g., when we 
read of Jacob in Gn 44™, ' His life {nephesh) is 
bound up with the lad's nephesh'; and of Jona- 
than in 1 S 18', ' his nephesh was knit to the 
nephesh of David.' In the statement that the soul 
of Shechem clave to Dinah (Gn 34^) we have refer- 
ence to the primitive belief that in love the (or a) 
nephesh leaves the body and enters into union 
with the soul of its beloved ; and a similar belief 
underlies the phrase which compares peril to 
' putting one's soul in one's hand ' (Job 13' , Jg 12^, 
1 S 19»28=', Ps 119'»»). 

The consequences of the temporary departure of 
a soul were believed to be giddiness, mental de- 
rangement, sickness, or dotage (Tylor, PC^i. 435 f.). 
There seems to be an allusion to this in the words 
of Saul in 2 S 1", if, with Graetz, we may alter the 
difficult, if not impossible, words vv ^3 into niy '?!. 
Saul has been wounded and is bleeding to death, 
and his words would then be : ' Giddiness hath 
taken hold of me, for my nephesh is no longer in 
me.' We have a similar underlj'ing belief in the 
phrase which we use metaphorically : ' I have 
poured out my soul,' as Hannah said to Eli 
(1 S 1") ; as Job also says : ' My soul is poured 
out upon me ' (30"") ; and as is said of the righteous 
servant : ' He poured out his soul unto death ' 
(Is 53'*). In tlie first two cases the result is 
extreme prostration of mind and body, and in the 
third case death. It is the voluntary surrender of 
life. 

The blood-soul may be ' smitten ' when a wound 
inflicted causes bloodshed (Gn 37°', Dt 19") ; or 
this nephesh may be ' slain ' in unintentional homi- 
cide (Nu 31" 35'"'), or in nmrder (2 S 4*) ; while in 
Dt 27'"' a curse is pronounced on one who should 
accept a bribe ' to sIidj a nephesh of innocent blood.' 
The Hebrews were forbidclen to make 'an incision 
to the ncp/iesh,' i.e. to incur the loss of the nephesli, 
by the loss of blood (Lv 10-'). 

(2) The subjective method.— It is quite certain 
that men practised observation long before they 
practised introsjiection. When man habituated 
' II. W. Kobinaon, Christian Doctrine of Man, p. 22 1. 



himself to turn his thoughts within, he became 
conscious of himself as a unitv ; the various organs 
were his organs. He was nolonjjer an assemblage 
of vital organs, as observation led him to suppose ; 
he was a unity, an organism ; and the )nysterious 
cause of his internal activities was his nephesh, his 
soul, the cause of his energies and emotions. Thus 
the nephesh in this sense is the seat of appetites, 
such as hunger (La 1") and thirst (Is 29*), and also 
of the outginngs of life in desires, longings, and 
wislies (1 S 211' 23»', 2 S 3-'). It is also the centre 
of all sensibilities, as disgust (Nu 21'), weariness 
(Jg le'"), love (Gn 442»), hatred (2 S S*), anger (2 S 
17'), wrath (Jg 18°-°), and sorrow (Jer 13'') ; but in 
all these and similar cases nephesh approaches 
the meaning of our word 'soul (?.f.), and is so 
rendered. 

Most ancient peoples believed that the souls of 
the departed lingered some days near the corpse ; 
and, while some peoples had no dread of the de- 
parting spirit, others, including the Hebrews, had 
a great terror as to the mischief it might effect ; 
and their boisterous funeral practices Mere designed 
to scare the spirit away. We have indications of 
this belief in the lingering of a soul in the fact that 
a Nazirite is forbidden during bis vow to come near 
the nephesh of a dead man (Nu 6^) ; a man rendered 
unclean through a nephesh was not allowed to eat 
the Passover at the statutory time, but might eat 
it a month later (9'"). Indeed, any one, male or 
female, who was unclean by a nephe.ih must go and 
remain outside the camp until purified (5-), and a 
high priest was forbidden at any time to enter 
a room where the nephesh of a dead person was at 
large (Lv 21"). 

Eventually, after or before the funeral, the soul 
was believed to pass into Sheol, and to be gathered 
unto its fathers. Hebrew has a distinct word for 
wraiths or ghosts, r'phuim, but nej.)hcsh is also 
used of the soul as a disembodied psychical entity. 
' Gather not my soul with the wicked,' the Psalmist 
prays (26'); 'Thou wilt not abandon my sonl to 
Sheol,' says another (16'°) ; ' He hath delivered my 
soul from Sheol,' says a third (86'^ ; so Job 33'8-38, 
Is 38"). By this time the nephesh has become the 
man's self, liis personality. 

(3) The objective-snhjeetive method. — Man believed 
himself to be the object of attack or of benign in- 
fluences from other spirits, or from the one great 
Spirit, God. When the influence was gentle, he 
conceived of it as 'breath' (n'sJidmdh) ; and when 
it was violent he spoke of it as a 'wind' (rilah), 
partly, no doubt, because it caused him to pant 
with excitement. The stronger emotions of man 
were traced to the riiah, or sjiirit of man, while 
the gentler emotions and the inspirations from 
the Divine were due to the action of the Divine 
n'shdmah or the liuman n'shamah. See SPIRIT. 

2. Hayyim. — Hin/yin is a plural form, for which 
no singular is extant (the root is "n or n'n, ' to 
live '). It is an intensive plural, denoting diversity 
in unity. As the plural form ElShim seems to ex- 
press the conception of one God with many mani- 
festations, so linyyim expresses life in its many 
manifestations and modes. G. H. \. Ewald truly 
says that the word 'life' is ' most expressive and 
crowded with meaning.'' Its various meanings it 
is now our purpose to dejiloy. 

(1) Physical life. — ffayyim is used of physical 
existence («) in relation to time oidy, representing 
the continuance of the existence of God or man, 
in po.ssession of their varied activities ; thus we 
read of ' the days of one's life ' (Dt 4», 1 S 7"), ' the 
years of one's life' (Gn 23', Ex 6'"), and ' the days 
of the years of one's life ' (Gn 25' 47") ; (h) in rela- 
tion to its antithesis, physical death (Jos 2", Jer 
21*, Ps 89'') ; and (c) in relation to the events 

1 or and HT Tlieolog;/, Enp. tr., Edinburgh, 1888, p. 183. 



LIFE AND DEATH (Hebrew) 



33 



which occur in one's lifetime, or are the outcome 
of one's energies or activities, as marriage (Lv 18'*), 
deeds of valour (Jg 16^"), singing God's praises 
(Ps 104^), sensuous enjoyments (Ec 3'-). 'They 
were lovely and beautiful in their lives' (2 S 1^) ; 
' My soul is weary of my life' (Job 10') ; ' Preserve 
my life from fear of the enemy' (Ps 64'). 

The remarkable thing as to the Hebrew usage 
of hayylm is the clear conviction that ' life ' is 
something more than a continuance of physical 
existence. There is a clear recognition of the 
dignity of man — that man was not meant to live 
the life of an animal or a life of sensuous gratifica- 
tion. Such a life is unworthy of so dignified a 
creature as man is. As man's sense of dignity 
developed, the word 'life' became filled with 
deeper connotation. Roughly speaking, man's 
view of ' life ' passed through the same three 
stages as we have found in regard to the word 
nephesh : (a) man's life consists in what he has, 
'the abundance of the good things that he pos- 
sesses'— the objective regard ; (6) man's life con- 
sists in what he is, his character— the subjective 
regard ; and (c) man's life consists in his relation 
to God, the influences which come to him from 
communion with the Divine — the objective-sub- 
jective regard. In passing through this develop- 
ment, Israel was subconsciously discussing the 
problem of the summum bonum — What is man's 
highest good ? Wherein does man's true life con- 
sist ? And his three answers were : (a) happiness, 
(i) goodness of character, and (c) fellowship with 
God. 

(2) Joyous life. — Life, to be worthy of the name, 
must not be existence merelj', but exuberant, 
joyous life. Life is not the humdrum of physical 
existence ; it is the possession of goods, family, 
and wealth, which can contribute to man's enjoy- 
ment. It is the exhilaration of the red-letter days, 
when life is sublimely wortli living. A life of joy 
and felicity is alone worthy to be called ' life.' 
This was always implied in the Oriental salutation : 
• Let the king live' (1 K 1==, 2 S le'"). It is asso- 
ciated with largesses of the gold of Sheba (Ps 72'^), 
with riches and honour (Pr 22*), with prosperity 
and large possessions (Dt 5^ [Heb. v.^"]). In Ec 9* 
the Hebrew reads : ' See life ^vitll the wife whom 
thou lovest,' but AV and RV both correctly inter- 
pret : ' Live joyfully with the wife ' ; and, when a 
man is honoured with an invitation to the court, 
that is a day of days : ' In the light of the king's 
countenance is life (Pr 16"). 

(3) Ethical life. — True life consists In what a 
man is and not in what he has. The ideal life is a 
good life, a life of righteousness. ' In the way of 
righteousness is life' (Pr 12^) ; 'Wisdom and dis- 
cretion are life to the soul' (3-); 'Keep her 
[wisdom] ; for she is thy life' (4'^) ; 'The words of 
wisdom are life to those that find them' (4-) j 
' Whoso findeth wisdom findeth life ' (8"). "There 
are three things which 'tend to life': righteous- 
ness (11'*), the labour of the righteous {10'*), and 
the fear of the Lord (19^). In the same pregnant 
sense of the word ' life ' we read of ' the way of 
life.' ' Torah is light ; the reproofs of instruc- 
tion are the way of life ' (6'-^) ; ' He that heedeth 
instruction is in the way of life' (10"). Similarly, 
the sages speak of a ' fountain of life.' ' The 
Torah of the wise is a fountain of life' (13'^) ; so 
is the ' fear of the Lord ' (14-'') and ' understanding' 
disciplined by correction (16--). In Lv 18^ in the 
Code of Holiness there is a statement, quoted in 
Neh 925 and developed at length by Ezk 18^ : ' Ye 
shall keep my statutes, and my judgments : which 
if a man do, he shall live by them." The statutes 
and judgments are considered, not as the rule and 
guide of life merely, but as providing the pabulum 
of the moral life. "This appears more strikingly in 

VOL. VIII. — 3 



Dt 8^ : ' Man doth not live by bread only, but by 
every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the 
Lord doth man live.' Revealed truth is the sus- 
tenance of character— of that moral life which is 
acceptable to God. Similarly, Hezekiah in his 
Psalm, speaking of the promises of God, saj's : ' By 
these things men live, and wholly therein is the 
life of my spirit ' (Is 38'*), and in 55' the Lord calls 
men through His prophet, saying : ' Incline j"our 
ear, and come unto me : hear, and your soul shall 
live.' 

(4) Religious life. — The passages hitherto con- 
sidered refer to the moral life nurtured by the 
instruction of the wise and by obedience to tha 
revealed wUl of God ; but the OT saints rose to a 
higher conception of life than even this — the life 
which is nourished by fellowship with God, the life 
concerning which the Psalmist could say: 'The 
Lord is the strength of my life ' (27') ; ' 1 love thee, 
O Lord, my strength' (18'); 'The Lord is my 
strength and my shield ' (28") ; ' My prayer shall 
be unto the God of my life' (42*). 'In God's 
favour is life ' (30') ; the only life fully worthy 
of the name is that spent in the consciousness of 
His favour. Deuteronomy promises repeatedly a 
long and prosperous life ou earth as the token of 
God's approbation, but the mystics soar above and 
beyond this present sphere. ' The righteous hath 
hope in his death,' says one of the sages (Pr 14^-). 
They rejoiced that God was their ' portion ' (Ps 
119"), 'in the land of the living' (Ps 142=), that 
God was their 'guest-friend' (Ps 15'), and there- 
fore there is an eternal covenant between Him and 
them. The high-water mark of a sense of unend- 
ing frendship with God is found in Ps 73 : ' Whom 
have I in heaven but thee ? And there is none 
upon earth that I desire beside tliee ' ; and from 
this the inference is drawn : ' I am continuallj' 
with thee. Thou shalt guide me with thy coun- 
sel and afterward receive me to glory' (v.^^-). 
God's friendship is the only true abiding good. 
This enables a man to triumph over death. ' Thou 
wilt show me the path of life : in thy presence is 
fulness of joy ; in thy right hand there are plea- 
sures for evermore' (16") ; ' I shall behold thy face 
in righteousness : I shall be satisfied, when I 
awake, with thy likeness ' (17"). 

' In all these Psalius,' says DiUmann.i " there is a full sense 
o/ a ^wTj atwi'tos already begun in this life, which to their 
authors gi\e9 the assurance that Sheoi cannot be the end of 
such a life, but only blessedness with God. But it is always 
expressed as a personal conviction, not as a dogma, and we 
need not wonder that such deep experiences are somewhat 
rare.' 

In conclusion, we turn to the significance of the 
word ' life ' in Ezekiel. The prophet looks forward 
with great expectancy to the return from exile, 
but it is under the glamour of vastly improved 
religious conditions. The Kingdom of God is to 
be with men. The Lord's senant David shall be 
the benign prince and ruler (37^- 34^'). Jahweh 
will take people from among the nations and 
sprinkle clean water upon them, give them a new 
heart and put a new spirit within them, and cause 
them to walk in His statutes and keep His judg- 
ments (Se^""-)- Ezekiel contemplates a new age — 
a Kingdom of God on earth. But, before that is 
established, he sees intervening a period of terrible 
conflict \vith the powers of evil, in which tlie 
wicked who are unfit to form part of the new 
Kingdom shall perish. Those who do wickedly 
shall not live, they shall surely die (18'"-'^). Those 
who 'do that wliich is lawful and right,' being 
endowed with the new heart and the new spirit, 
'shall surely live' (IS*'). The Kingdom of God 
with its great moral and religious privileges is ever 
before the prophet's thoughts. To ' live ' is to pass 
safely through the impending conflict with evil 
1 ATTheologit,^. 400. 



34 



LIFE AND DEATH (Indian) 



and to enter on the new Kingiloiii, in which (iod's 
presence will be niueh more real and evident (48^') ; 
to ' die ' is to perish in tlie crisis and to be excluded 
from tlie Kingdom. 

LiTBRATi RE.— H. Wheeler Robinson, TheChrwtinn Docl,-!iie 
nj .Man, Edinburgh, Hill, ch. i., Helirtious Ideas aj the <IT, 
London, IPIS, ch. iv. ; E. B. Tylor, l'C-\ do., 1891, che. xi.- 
xvii. ; T. K. Cheyne, Oriffin anil Hi-Hqious Contents of the 
Ptatlfr, London, isni, In-t. viii. ; R. H. Charles, Eschalnlofiy':, 
do., 191S, ch. i. t. ; S. D. F. Salmond, Christian Doctrine o/ 
Immortality*, Eihnbnrgh, 1901, ch. ii. ; the works on Old Testa- 
ment Theolonv hv H. Schultz (Kns:. tr., Kdinbvirirh, 1892), 
R. Smend (fteiburt', 1S99), H. Stade (Tiibin^-en, 1906), 
C. F. A. Dillmann (Leipzij;, 189.^); arlt. Buooii, Bbeatti, 
DlAin AND Disposal ok tiik Dead (Jewish) ; UDB, art. ' Life 
and Death,' sect, on ' OT Tea. hing.' 

J. T. M.\RSHALL. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Indian).— The earliest 
Aryans to enter India worshipped a vast number 
of jietty spirits, but tlicy learned, rather later, to 
revere a number of the greater i)henomena of 
nature, and also laid mucli stress on the worship 
of their ancestors. This ritual formed the founda- 
tion on which all the institutions of the Aryan 
family were built,' though it may well be that the 
religions belief had its own ultimate origin in the 
natural organization of the family. At all events, 
the belief in the power of ancestors profoundly 
modilied that organization. The father was the 
family priest, and controlled the worshij) of the 
ancestors of tlie family in all details. Centuries 
after their entry into India, when the Aryans 
were eng.iged in the imperial work of liringing 
all the peoples of N. India under their political 
and intellectual domination, the great doctrine 
of A-a)Hif( and re-birth took shape. With Farquhar ' 
we may conjecture that 

* among the many animistic tribes the invaders met on the 
broad plains of the North, there must have been some who 
held the common primitive belief that the souls of men may 
become incarnate in animals. There were probably totemistic 
clans who believed that at death a man became, like his totem, 
a tiger, an ox, a frog, or a snake.' 

Whether the transmigration idea came from this 
source or not it is impossible to say, and, indeed, 
it is more probable that it was at liist a deduction 
from the physical resemblances which were observed 
among kindred. 

* But, even if the idea that human souls might undergo animal 
births came from the abori^jines, that is but one element in the 
complex doctrine. That which gave the belief its power over 
the intellect, and .also its value for the moral life, was the con. 
nexion of this fairy-tale idea with the powerful ethical concep- 
tion of retribution ; and we may be certain that that was the 
work of the Aryan mind.' ^ 

The doctrine first appears in the earliest Upani 
sads. Thus, while transmigration has been believed 
in many lands, the Hindu doctrine of karma {(j.i\) 
is, as far as we can yet say, unique.'' 

Inextricably, though by no means consistently, 
intertwined with this moral theory of retribution 
is the more primitive and far more wide-spread 
belief that souls are somethinj; almost material, 
although they may not be always palpable or 
tangible. 

I. Vedas and Brahmanas. — In the Rigveda tlie 
conceptions of death are not entirely consistent, 
but the principal belief relating to the aja bhCir/n, 
or ' unborn part,' was as follows. When the remains 
of the deceased had been placed on the funeral jiile 
and the process of cremation had begun, Agni, the 
god of hre, was prayed not to scorch or consume 
the departed, not to tear asunder his skin or limbs, 
but, after the flames had done their work, to con- 
vey to the fathers or ancestors the mortal who had 
been presented to him as an oll'ering. His eye was 
bidden to go to the sun,'' his breath to the wind, 
and BO on. As for his unborn part, Agni was sup- 

* J. N. Farquhar, Crown of liiiuhiiiim, London, 1913, p. 6i); 
cl. KRE W.i&t. 

- Op. cil. p. 136. S JO. 

* Cf. A. IJ. Keith's paper on ' Pythagoras and Transmigration,' 
in JRA.<S. 1909, p. MQ. 

In Ri^'veda, x. hiii. 8, the souls of the departed are said to 
go to the sun and to U^, the dawn. 



plicated to kindle it with his heat and llamc, and, 
a.ssnming his most auspicious form, to convey it to 
the worl<l of the righteous.' IJefore this unborn 
part can complete its course from earth to the third 
heaven, however, it has to traver.se a v.ast gulf of 
darkness. Leaving behind on earth all that is evil 
and imperfect, and proceeding by the paths which 
the fatlieis trod,- the spirit, invested with a lustre 
like that of the gods, soars to the realms of eternal 
light in a car or on wings, on the undecaying pinions 
wherewith Agni slays the Kaksasas, wafted up- 
wards by the Maruts, recovers then its ancient 
body in a complete and glorified form, meets with 
the ancestors who are living in festivity with Yania, 
obtains from him, when recognized as one of his 
own, a delectable abode, and enters upon a more 
perfect life. 

In the Vedic era death was held * to be the going-forth from 
the living of his breath, or of the thinking part, the mind, which 
was held to reside ui the heart. . . . Heaven, a happy here. 
after, was all that was looked forward to by these Vedic Aryans. 
Throughout the hymns there is no weariness of life, no pessi- 
mism. J* 

From death there is no awakening ; the shade, 
the breath, soul, or spirit has gone forth and re- 
turns not. 

'In the "Taittirliia Brdhmana" the souls of the deceased 
are said to dwell in the heavens above as stars, and again in the 
stars are" the lights of those riijhteous men who go to the celestial 
world." In the " .'^atapatha llrdhmana " death is the sun whose 
rays attach to mortals their life breath, yet, as the "Hatha 
Upanishad " declares : " No mortal lives by the breath that 
goes up and the breath that goes down. We live by another in 
whom these two repose." "There was something which went 
out of man in sleep and death ; something vinderlying the Ego, 
the I, the vital breath, more subtle than life. In the " Hig 
V^eda," the sun, though it holds the life breath of mortals, is 
something more. It is the Self, or the Atman, of all that moves 
and moves not, of all that fills the heavens and the earth. So 
of man there is also the .^tman, " the Self, smaller than small, 
greater than great, hidden in the heart of that creature." A 
man who is free from desires and free from ^riet sees the 
majesty of the Self by the grace of the Creator. It is this 
.\tman, or Self, more abstract in its conception than soul. 
Psyche, or " anima, " that becomes also the Universal Self, the Self 
of the World, "bhiimivah atman," of which the " Veda " speaks ; 
" When that which had no bones bore him who has bones, when 
that which was formless took shape and form." The Indian 
sage . . . had first to sweep away all that which had been pro- 
duced, even the gods themselves, and to his gaze there remained 
but the neuter essence. Brahman, from which all things issued 
forth, and into which all things resojve themselves. 'There re- 
mained also the Self, the Soul, the Atman of man. Tliere was 
but one step further to be reached by the Indian mind, and 
that was taken when all duality vanished, and the Hralnnan 
became the Great Self, the " Paramfitman," the Universal Self, 
into which was merged the Atman, or Self, of man.'-* 
In other words, the Hindu conception of the soul 
approached that of the modern monists (see, fur- 
ther, art. ATMAN). 

2. Upanisads. — In the pre-Buddhistic Upanisads 
the soul is supposed to exist inside each human 
body and to be the one sutiicient ex|ilaiiation of 
life and motion. In the living body it dwells 
ordinarily in a c.avitj' in the heart, and is of the 
size of a grain of rice or barley. In later specula- 
tion it grows to the size of a thumb and is, there- 
fore, called ' the dwarf.' In shape it is like a man. 
Beliefs varied as to its appearance and as to its 
composition. One passage says that it consists of 
consciousness, mind, breath ; eye and ears ; earth, 
water, tire, and ether ; heat and no heat ; desire 
and no desire ; anger and no anger ; law and no 
law— in a word, of all things." Tims the soul was 
conceived as material, although it also possessed 
selected mental qualities. It could quit the body 
in dream sleeji, and certain diseases were sujiposed 

1 Rigveda, \. xvi. 1-5. = Jl>. x. xiv. 7. 

3 It. W. Krazer, Literary History o} India, London, 1898, 
pp. :i(l, 38. 

* Frazer, op. cit. p. 105 f. 

^ Brhadaraxiyaka I'pan., iv. iv. B ; see also in. vii. 14-'22. 
Speculation in the Upanisad times was very free and it veered 
round even to the denial of the soul as a substance (R. G. 
Bhandarkar, Vai^navifm, .^aicism and Minor Relifiious Systemt, 
Strassburg, 1913, "p. 2). Ilnddhism also practically denied the 
existence of the human soul as a substance, as BImndarkar points 
out (p. 2). But in the end it taught a very dilfereut doctrine 
(see liclow). 



LIFE AND DEATH (Indian) 



35 



to be clue to its having esciiped from the body, so 
that chaiiiis had to be employed to bring it back. 
In some passages the soul is supposed to ha\e 
existed before birth in some other body, ami 
ojiinions varied as to how it got into its tirst body. 
We also find a curious speculation, with tliree 
variants,' on the transfer of ths soul by generation, 
through the seed. One of these is the theory that 
certain human souls, on going to the moon, become 
the food of the gods as a consequence of their good 
deeds. When the efficacy of those deeds is ex- 
hausted, they pass from the gods to tlie ether, from 
the ether into the air, from that into the rain, 
thence on to the earth, and from it into plants 
which become food to males, whence they pass into 
females. At an ordinary man's death the top part 
of the heart is lighted up, and the soul, guided by 
that light, departs from the heart into the eye, 
and through it into some other body, exalted or 
not according to deeds done in the body which it 
is leaving. The soul of the man whose cravings 
have ceased goes to Brahman. The Upanisads are 
almost unanimous that the soul will not obtain 
release from re-birth either by sacrifice or by 
penance. 

' It mwst be by a sort of theosophic or animistic insi^'ht, by 
the perception, the absolute knowlwlge and certainty, that 
one's own soul is identical with the Great Soul, the only per- 
manent reality, the ultimate basis and cause of all phenomena. ' - 

In the Kan.fitaki Bnihmana Upan. the belief 
in transmigration is combined with a notion that 
souls go first to the moon. All who depart from 
this world go to the moon. In the bright fortnight 
it is gladdened by their spirits, but in the dark one 
it sends them forth into new births. It is the door 
of heaven. Him who rejects it it sends on be3-ond, 
but whoso rejects it not, him it rains down ujion 
this world ; and here he is born as a worm, a grass- 
hopper, fish, bird, lion, boar, serpent, tiger, or a 
man or some other creature, according to his deeds 
or his knowledge.^, 

3. Jainism.— The philosophyofJainism, probably 
the oldest living Indian creed, defines the universe 
as not created and not controlled by any individual 
god. As substance it is without beginning and 
without end, but it is not homogeneous, since it 
consists of substance (drai-i/d), which is either j7cf(, 
•alive,' or ajiva, which may be translated 'in- 
organic' There are five kinds of substance not 
alive, viz. matter, space, the two ethers, and 
(figuratively) time ; but living beings are com- 
pounded of two kinds of substance, viz. soul and 
l)ody, and the Jain belief is that nearly every- 
thing, even plants, particles of earth, fire, and 
wind, is possessed of life. In other words, the Jain 
philosophy is pure animism. Jlva is sometimes 
translated ' living being ' and .sometimes ' soul,' yet 
it is not one individual universal world-soul, but a 
mass of mutually exclusive, individual soul.s, and 
every soul having attained its highest state (moksa) 
is styled pai-amCitnuin, or ' great soul,' a term only 
very roughly translatable by the word 'god.' 
Jainism thus fails to draw any definable distinction 
between 'life' and the soul. Dravya may be 
iletined from several points of view. From tlie 
standpoint of its own unchanging nature it is that 
which ever exists. For example, the soul now 
embodied as a cat may in its next life be incarnated 
as a dog, man, insect, or what r.ot, yet remain, in 
spite of all these changes, the same individual soul 
all the time ; and thus, while the body is merely 
a vast multitude of cells which come and go, the 
soul is a homogeneous substance whose qualities 
(giina) do not come and go, and which is always 

1 T. W. Rhys Davids, Buddhist India, London, 1903, p. 254. 

■i lb. p. 255. 

3 T. \V. Rhys Davids, Lectures on the Origin and Growth of 
Religion as illustrated by some Points in the History of Duil' 
Jhism, London, 1S91, p, 81 ; cf. Appendix ni. for parallel beliefs 
on souls going to the moon. 



itself, never becoming or merging into another, 
though in their modifications {j/ari/di/:!) the (/iinas 
are ceaselessly changing. The soul in its pure 
state is invisible, but, when compounded in a 
subtle way with visible, tangible matter, it is 
rendered visible, and men, angels, etc. , are examples 
of it in this impure state. We do not, however, 
know when these conceptions were formed by 
Jainism, and we cannot say that Jain philosophy 
evolved them unaided. They were apparently 
borrowed from tlie common stock of ideas cur- 
rent in India and were modified by the Jains in 
their own vi-aj'. The earliest Indo-Aryan concep- 
tion of life as a series of re-births was far more 
primitive, and was developed not on metaphysical 
lines but for ethical purposes. 

4. Buddhism. — Buddhism, as an organized creed, 
has disappeared from India, but the ideas which it 
adopted or promulgated are still living and form 
one of the sources from which the Indian beliefs 
as to the origin of life are drawn. For instance, 
the Buddhist teaching that all life is due to a 
common source apjicars to find expression in the 
legend that with Buddha himself was born his 
horse, as well as his wife, his companion.s, and 
even the Mahabodhi tree and the four treasure- 
vases. These are the seven that were born simul- 
taneously, but to make up seven one must count 
the four vases as one. Another legend declares 
that with the Bodhisattva were born 500 Sakya 
princes, 500 maidens, oUO servants, 500 horses, 500 
elephants, and as many treasures came to light.' 
A very similar conception has survived in modern 
India. 

Thus in the legend of Guga, his mother is destined never to 
bear a son, but Ehaewan rubs some of the dirt out of his head 
and gives it to her. ~ She divides it among a Brahman woman, 
another of the lowest caste, a gray mare, and herself ; and all 
four females, hitherto barren, become fruitful. In another 
cult-lesend a Erahman gives a Raja three grains of rice, and 
each of his three queens swallows one and bears a son. A stock 
incident in folk-tales is the gift by a j'ariir of a barleycom to 
a barren widow whereby she conceives. For the Buddhist 
doctrines see art. Deatit axd DisrosAt. OF the Dead (Buddhist). 

5. Mediaaval. — Three or four centuries before 
the Christian era a religion with VSsudeva as its 
central figure and a school of his followers known 
as Bhagavata was founded in India. According 
to the Mahubharata, the sun is the gate, and after 
entrance those who are free from sin, all their 
material impurities being burnt, remain as atoms 
in him (it) ; then, released from him, they enter 
the Aniruddha (self-consciousness) form and, be- 
coming mind, they enter the Pradyumna (mind) 
form. Leavingthis, theyenterthatof Saiiikarsana, 
i.e. the form of the individual soul (jiva), and 
afterwards, freed from the three rjunas, they enter 
the Supreme Soul, who is everywhere and who is 
Vasudeva, 'he who covers the whole world and 
is the resting-place (adhii-dm) of all beings.' 
Vasudeva next became identilietl with Krsna 
and Visnu, and finally with Narayana ; and 
the Bliakti system or Ekantika Dharma (mono- 
tlieism) was attached to the Vaisnava creeds. Its 
earliest exposition in the Bhagavad-G'ita teaches 
that they who know the incarnations and the 
deeds of Bhagavat are released from the body and 
not born again. The discipline prescribed, how- 
ever, for the attainment of the Brahma condition 
is religious, not merely moral, and this difler- 
entiates the Bhakti doctrine from that of the 
Kntha and Brhadamnyaka Upanisads. Mention 
is liiade of two paths, and those who die while 
the sun is in his northern course (Uttarayana) 
go to Bralima, while those who die while he is 
m his southern course go to the orb of the moon, 
from which the soul returns. Again, the whole 

1 J. P. Vogel, 'A Grsco-Buildhi^t Sculpture in the Lahore 
Museum,' in Journal of the Punjab Historical Society, i. [19U-21 
136. 



36 



LIFE AND DEATH (Indian) 



creation (Saiiis^fira) is comparcil to a pipnlUce, 
whicli is to lie out l>v the weapon of imlitrcrenoe or 
aetachment. When a soul departs from a Ixxly it 
takes away the inr/rh/as (senses), of which iiunuis 
(niinil) is the sixth, imd brings tlieni in wlieti it 
iussunies another body. The si>ul itself is a part 
of Hhajiavat and is eternal. I?y bcconun}; .mmn 
(hemp) Uharavat raises all herbs. By becoming; 
lire he aids digestion. Tliere are two souls in the 
world, one changeable, the other not, and besides 
these there is another, the highest or Paramatman, 
who, as the unchangeable lord, supports all three 
worlds after entering into them. Hence it appears 
that it is the animal soul that goes out of the bo(ly 
along with the six senses and enters new ones in 
that condition. 

6. Modern Aryan.— The nmltiplicity and, it 
must be confe.ssed, inconsistencies of the older 
doctrines current in India regarding life and death 
are reflected in the countless beliefs now existing, 
but through all the bewildering' variations which 
prevail a few dominant conceptions can generally 
l)e traced, and a remote and savage tribe will be 
found professing a creed which is based on the 
fundamentals of orthodox Hinduism. Even the 
regular terminology will reap))ear in forms more or 
less mutilated. So numerous are these beliefs 
that only a few of them can be given. 

The basic idea of life in all India is that it is 
indestructible. This leads to a readiness to take 
life which to the European appears callous and 
brutal indifference to it. Thus in 1841 S. C. Mac- 
pherson was deputed to Ganjam in Madras to 
suppress female infanticide and human sacrifices 
among the Khonds, a tribe which believed that 
souls return to human form in the same family, 
but that they do not do so if the naming ceremony 
on the 7th diiy after birth has not been performed. 
As the Khonds anlently desire sons, they saw in 
this belief a perfect justification for female infanti- 
cide as a means of reducing the number of female 
souls to be re-born in the family.' A very similar 
belief prevails in the Panjfib, where a girl child is 
or wa.s killed with rites and an incantation bidding 
her ' send a brother instead.' Exchange is not 
murder. 

How far this and similar beliefs account for the 
reluctance to cremate young children does not 
appear. But the souls of those dying after infancy 
or childhood are very widely believed to pass into 
another world, at least for a term. Thus in the 
Panjab the Kanets of the Kulu valley sometimes 
after a cremation make a small foot-bridge over 
running water in tlie neighbourhood to help the 
pa-ssing of the soul of the deceased. ^^ Yet the same 
people practise a form of divination, which is very 
widely spread, to ascertain, immediately after 
death, what animal the soul will enter or has 
entered. 

This belief is perfectly consistent with a belief 
in metempsychosis and yet compatible with the 
worshii) or propitiation of the dead, who may be 
benevolent or the reverse. Among the kindly dead 
may be numbered the spirits of ancestors, of pure 
ones (suhl/i.'s), and saints, of dutiful widows who 
have committed xntl, and so on. But the propitia- 
tion of the malevolent dead is nnich more neces- 
sary, and therefore prevalent. For example, in 
the Kumaon division of the United Provinces the 
lowest class, the Doms, and even the lower classes 
of Brahmans, the'Khas Brahmans and Rajputs— 
in fact, the bulk of the poinilation— believe in the 
imwers of the malevolent or vindii-tive dead. Thus, 
if a man lias two wives and drives one to suicide, 
any disease afflicting the other wife's children is 

1 E. A. Oait, Census Hep. India, 191.S, p. 21G. 
'i n. A. Rose, (ilomarii nl Punjab Tribes and Castes, I.alioie, 
1911, ii. 403. 



ascribed to her ghost, which must be propitiated, 
and gradually conies to be treated as a god. If a 
man is killedin a r|narrel, every misfortune befall- 
ing his slayer or his children is ascribed to the 

gllC)St. 

' There is reason U> believe that the eiuotinn caused hy the 
dread of the effects of karma is much strnngcr in the hilla thaTi 
in the plains. In particular dviiiK in delit is dreaded as the 
debtor will, it is believed, be re-born as the ox or pony ot his 
creditor. II a man's son die it is believed that ho was his 
father's creditor in a former life, and the debt bemK now ex- 
tinguished there is no necessitv ot his further hfe. The latter 
belief is said to prov'irte a jreat consolation, since the death of 
:ui ordinary son is a mucli more serious matter. 

The certainty of the operation of karma is not 
without considerable efi'ect on practical morality.' 
It is automatic, so that specitic condemnation by 
I'jirmeswar (God) of any sin is hardly required. 
Similarly, the iilea of 'forgiveness is absolutely 
wanting ; evil :',.iie may be outweighed by meri- 
torious deeds only so far as to ensure a better 
existence in the future, but it is not effaced, and 
must be atoned for. As to the objection raised to 
the theory ot transmigration— that it does not follow 
from it that the soul remembers previous exist- 
ences — such a consciousness is recognized in the case 
of great ascetics ; and even a person born in a 
degraded position knows that the reason for this is 
his wrongdoing in a previous existence. The 
nature of the next incarnation can also be divined, 
when a man has died, by placing ashes from a 
potter's kiln in a shallow vessel and smoothing 
them. Next morning they will be found marked 
witli human foot-prints, claws, wavy lines, and so 
on, according as the soul is to be re-born as a man, 
a bird, a tree, etc. To ensure that they shall be 
luarried to each other in a future existence, a man 
and his wife bathe together in the Ganges with 
their clothes tied together. The important differ- 
ence in the teachings of theoretical Hinduism and 
popular religion in regard to heaven and hell is 
that the former declares that there are transitory 
stages of existence in the chain of transmigration, 
while in the latter there is generally an idea that 
the soul, when sufficiently purified, goes to dwell 
for ever in heaven, whicli is regarded as a place 
where the soul will enjoy material comforts. In 
jiopular Hinduism there is no idea of absorption in 
the deity or of recurring cycles of existence and 
non-existence. - 

The conception of life as something impalpable, 
yet apparently material and certainly transferable, 
is extremely common in India, and may, indeed, 
be described as the most popular. Thus a woman 
who has lost a child will bathe above its grave, 
jionring water over herself through a sieve, in order 
to ensure a fresh conception. For the same reason 
very young children are sometimes buried under 
the tlireshold, so that the life may come back 
again. This idea leads to the popular belief that 
life may be stolen, and so on the night of the 
Divali, or feast of lamiis, male children are occa- 
siiuially stolen and killed so that a barren woman 
may bathe over the body and conceive a son of her 
own.' As in other ritual murders, it is d-esirable 
to kill the child with as much pain as possible. 
And during the h-add/Ki'', the ancestral fortnight 
when the sun is in Virgo (Kany.a), occurs the 
Kanagatan laran, or ' lighting in Kanyagat,' also 
termed sdflj/ii nfnvan ('sharing with others'), m 
which women of good Hindu caste, even Khatris and 
Brahmans, of tbe Central Paniab, take part. On 
the first day of the iradd/ins, the goddess I,aksiui's 
image in tlie house or lane is painted with cow- 
dung, and the women belonging to it go out early 
in the day to a bathing-place, reviling on the way 
1 Cetmis Rep. Vn iled Provinees, 1901 , i. 77. 

3 No one would think a female soul worth stealing, aUhou|(h 
a (Jill's soul is expected to return in a boy. 



LIFE AND DEATH (Iranian) 



37 



women who are known to have sons. This leads 
to tussles in which garments are often rent to 
pieces, Imt men must not interfere. The belief is 
that by cursing tlie sons of otliers the female 
attracts the male souls to herself through the inter- 
vention of the goddess, whose image is worshipped 
daily and thro^^•n into the river at the end of , the 
fortnight which is hehl saci'ed to the spouse of Siva 
the destroyer as well as to the dead. Married 
women are also cursed to become widows, in order 
to prolong one's own ^^■edlock. On the Amawas 
day regular fights take place between large gangs 
of women on their way to the river, and the ati'air 
is treated as a festival. 
Literature. — This has been given in the footnotes. 

H. A. Rose. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Iranian).— With their 
marked tendency towards optimism, the Iranians 
loved life (anqhu, gcyd, jyritu, jiti, itStinia) and 
abhorred death {mrihrka, mcveOyw) ; the one is the 
creation of Ahura Mazda, the other of Angra 
Mainyu (Ys. .\s.\-. 4), who have been at variance 
since 'the beginning of life' (Yx. xlv. 2). Not 
only was life first created by Aliura Mazda (Ys. 
xliii. 5, xlvi. 6, xlviiL 6), and not only did he give 
life to the body (F.?. xxxi. 11), so that Zarathushtra 
asks him how the ' first {i.e. the earthly] life ' is to 
be (Ys. xxviii. 11; cf. xxxiii. 1), but he is 'the 
lord of the deeds of life' (Ys. xxxi. 8), and from 
him come the joys of life (F«. xxxiii. 10; ef. xxxiv. 
14). The Amesha Spentas (q.v.) give aid to the 
life of man (Ys. xxx. 7), so that Zarathushtra 
fittingly presents the ' life of his own body ' as a 
' holy offering ' (rata) to Ahura Mazda and Asha 
(Ys. xxxiii. 14). On the other hand, the demon 
Wrath (Aeshma) injures the life of man, and the 
wicked and unbelievers mar it (Ys. xxx. 6, xxxii. 
9, 11). 

Life in this world is not all ; indeed, though 
Zoroastrianism tejiches that all good things are 
to be enjoyed in full measure, life here below is 
but a preparation for the richer life beyond. For 
this reason Zarathushtra asks from Vohu Manah 
and .\sha the ' words of life' (uxSrl anrjhfu-i), while 
the 'right ways of weal' (ereziii saivjuj/io pa$6} 
are to be learned from the religious teacher in the 
present life ( Ys. xliv. 8, xliii. 3). 

If life on earth is the ' first life,' the ' .second life ' 
is in heaven, and that life the dregi-ant (the 'man 
of the Lie,' ' the perjietual term for those who take 
the devil's side in human life' [J. H. Moulton, 
Early Zoroastrianistii, London, 1913, pp. 146, 131]) 
seeks to destroy (Ys. xlv. 1, xlvi. 11, liii. 6). 
Heaven is the place of 'long life' (Ys. xliii. 2, 13). 
Most significant of all is the presence, among 
the Amesha Spentas, of the godling InimortJility, 
Ameretat (Ys. xliv. 17, xlv. 5, 10, xlvii. 1, li. 7), 
for in heaven life is to be for eternity (Ys. xlv. 7). 

When we turn to the Younger Avesta, we find 
the outlook upon life unchanged. Long life in 
litis world is a blessing and an object of prayer 
(Ys. Ixviii. 11; JfrJuak^n, i. IS), while both Ahura 
ilazda and the Gathas are honoured with life and 
liody (Ys. V. 3, Iv. 1 ; cf. Iviii. 3). Life is twofold : 
' this' or ' the corporeal ' (lit. ' osseous '), and 'the 
spiritual ' (nhmaica ahuye manahyaicd, Ys. xl. 2, 
xli. 6; uvaHbya , . . ahuhya . . . ahcca anghcui 
yo astvatO yusca astl maiuthyo, Ys. Ivii. 25), so 
that prayer is made to Ahura Mazda to be 'life 
and corporeality for both lives' (gayascd usten- 
tuuscCi . . . uboyu cnighro, Ys. xli. 3). The 'best 
life' (vahiMa ahu, Ys. ix. 19, and often)is actuallj' 
a synonym for ' heaven,' as the ' worst life ' (aciita 
ahu, e.g. Vend. iii. 35) is for 'hell,' and this con- 
cept still survives in the ordinary Persian term for 
' heaven,' bihUt. The ' best of the best life' is the 
'righteousness of Asha' (Vend, xviii. 6) ; and in the 
time of the final" Saoshy ant, Ast\at-ereta, men will 



live for ever, for there shall be no more death (Yt. 
xix. 89), even as was the ca.se in the hajipy days 
of Yinia's reign (Ys. ix. 5; Yt. xix. 33; Vend. 
ii. 5). 

In tlie Gathas death is seldom mentioned. The 
whole stress of Zarathushtra is on life, to be devoted 
to overcoming the powers of evil and gaining the 
eternal joys of heaven. Even the witlced do not 
die ; they are damned to the everlasting torments 
of hell (Ys. xlv. 7, xlvi. 11). In the Younger 
Avesta, on the contrary, death is an important 
feature. We need not detail the corruption 
wrought by the 'corpse demon' (Nasu; cf. Gr. 
vfKvi, ' corpse '), which forms the main theme of 
Vend, v.-xii. (see also art. Death and Disposal 
OF THE Dead [Parsi]), and we need only mention 
that a standing epithet of Haoma (q.v.) is diiraoia 
(' from whom destruction [especially death] remains 
afar,' Ys. ix. 2, 19, x. 21, xi. 3, 10, xxxii. 14 [on 
the latter pa.ssage see Moulton, 71 f., 358]). Death 
is one of the worst of evils ( 17. iii. 7-12 ; cf. ix. 
10), and the first to stay it was Thrita (Vend. xx. 
2), wliile it is the Druj (the Lie, the negation of 
the trutli of .-Vhura Mazda [?]) who destroys life 
(Ys. Ivii. 15), 'life' here probably being meant in 
the eschatological sense. As we have seen, in the 
blessed future there will be no death, but in this 
present world only the wicked forget death ; the 
man of piety prepares for it (Aogcmadnccd, 32 fl".), 
for it is inevitable (ib. 53 ff.). 

According to the Pahlavi Dina-i Malnog-l Xrat 
(viii. 20), which is not stiictly orthodox, being 
markedlj- fatalistic in tone (cf. art. Fate [Iranian]), 
the seven planets 'pervert every creature and 
creation, and deli(er them up to death and every 
evil.' According to the Bundahiin (i. 7; cf. xxx. 
'20 If.), the creatures of Ahriman will perish at the 
Last Day, when the heavens and the earth shall 
be created anew and when the creation of Ahura 
Mazda shall reign supreme, after wicked men shall 
have been purified by the flood of molten metal 
which at that time will cover the world. 

Of mythological concepts of life and death there 
is scant trace in Zoroastrianism, the .sole allusion, 
evidently borrowed from a Semitic source, being 
to the tree Gokart (tlie Gaokerena of Yt. i. 30, 
Vend. XX. 4, etc.), or white Horn, which is 'the 
counteractor of decrepitude, the reviver of the 
dead, and the immortalizer of the living' (Selec- 
tions of ZOt-Sparam, viii. 5), and from which, at 
the diroKOTaffT-ao-it, is obtained one of the com- 
ponents of the food which will give undying life to 
all (Bundeikiin, xxx. 25; cf. ix. 6, xviii. 1, and see 
F. Windischniann, Zor. Studien, Berlin, 1863, pp. 
169, 253; F. Sjiiecel, Erdn. Alterthumskunde, 
Leipzig, 1871-78, i. 464 ff.). 

LlTKRATCKK. — The principal references are (^ven t>y C. 
Bartholomae, AUiran. WOrterbuch, Strassburg, 1904, s.w. 
' Angiiav-, 'Ga,\a-,' ' Jitay-,' 'Jjatav-,' ' I'stana-,* 'Mahrlva-, 
'Mere^yav-,' 'Pourumahrlta-,' etc. No sj'ecial study of the 
subject has yet been written. LOUIS H. GfiAY. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Japanese).— As might be 
expected, the early Japanese conceived of life and 
death as being entirely dependent on breathing. 
The word for ' to live,' ikii, is associated with iki, 
' breath ' ; and i-no-chi, the expression for life and 
vitality, is believed to mean iki-no-uchi, 'during 
breatliing,' or ikt-no-niirlu, 'the way of respira- 
tion.' Similarly, tlie word for 'to die,' shinti, 
seems to mean 47ii-i'»«, 'the wind goes' (a deriva- 
tion of the word from siigi-inii, ' to pass away,' is 
disputable). These very ancient words are still in 
common use, though the people think little of their 
etymology. 

The mytliology opens with the primal power of 
production. Three deities are said to have sprung 
out of tlie primeval chaos. One of these is the 
Eternal-Ruling (Ame-no-minakanushi), and the 



38 



LIFE AND DEATH (Japanese) 



other twoare the Hii;li-Pro<Iucing(Taka-iiiimusubi) 
fintl the Divine- (ov Mysterious- ) I'roiliicin}; (Kami- 
iiiimusubi). The last two are identilietl with the 
Dii-mity-Male (Kaiiii-ro-fri) and the Diviiiity-Fe- 
male (ICami-ro-nii), the terniinations gi and mi 
representing 'male" and 'female' re-sjiectivoly. 
It has not unreasonably been susjioctcd tliat this 
triad may have been borrowed from the Chinese 
ideas of the primal entity and the two jirinciples, 
positive and negative, flowing out of it ; but the 
Divinity-Male and the Divinity-Female are con- 
stantly invoked in the ritual or prayers, some of 
whioh are of remote origin. It is undeniable that 
in the pristine faith of the Jajianese the generative 
powers played a great part, but these divinities 
themselves were thought to liave been generated 
spontaneously, and the first pair are followed by a 
series of similar deities. They were alij generated 
independentlj- from one anotlier and in turn dis- 
appeared or hid themselves. 

The last of tliese pairs are the Male-Who-Invites 
(Izanagi) and the Female-Who-Invites (Izana-nii), 
who are doubtless counterparts of the first pair 
They were united in marriage, by order of the 
celestial deities, and brought forth the islands which 
make up the Japanese archipelago, and nearly all 
sorts of elements and objects (.see, further, art. 
Cosmogony and Cosmology [Japanese]). The 
stories of these births show that many objects of 
nature were believed to be animated, as was, in 
fact, whatever manifested anj' power, good or evil, 
on men. The female deity becomes ill from bear- 
ing fire as a child and consequently dies. This 
death, however, is not to lie taken as a natural 
death in our modern sense of the word. After her 
death the goddess is found in Yomotsu-kuni, i.e. 
' the dark countrj',' which is thought to be in a sub- 
terranean region. The male deitj' visits her there 
and, against her will, looks on her body by torch- 
light. Enraged at his importunity, she, accom- 
panied by her attendants of the daikness, jiursues 
him, in order to catch him and to make him a 
member of the realm where death and darkness 
rule. Their dialogue on the boundary of tlie world 
and the dark region tells of the life and death of 
human beings. The female deity, now the genius 
of death, threatens the male that she will take the 
live.s of one thousand men every day, while he 
expresses his counter-determination that he will 
^ive birth to one thousand and live hundred men a 
day. Thus we see how the pair of generative 
powers were divided and metamorphosed into the 
powers of life and death. A similar antithesis is 
attributed to the Heaven-Shining (Amaterasu), 
the goddess of light and culture, and the Swift- 
Impetuous (Susano-wo), the god of darkness and 
outrage. These two are said to have been born of 
the Male-Who-Invites, either alone or in union with 
hie consort. These divisions, however, are not 
thoroughgoing. Usuallj-, in popubir belief, life is 
ascribed to the power of the Producing deity or 
deities, and death to the ]iower of evil sjiirits, who 
are indefinite in their personalities. 

The stories told of the deities, of their generation 
and death, and of life and death in general, show 
neither delinite sequence nor unity of conception. 
They are coloured by ethnological incidents, and 
are also possibly mingled witli foreign elements. 
Still it is certain that the pristine beliefs contained 
the ideas of spontaneous generation and generative 
reproduction, on the one side, and the belief in 
unnatural death, caused b3' evil forces, on the other. 
This idea of death as the violent ce.ssation of life 
survived the belief in spontaneous generation, 
and still rtinains in the observances of purity, 
which are intended as a means of avoiding the cou- 
tagion of pollution or to prevent evil intluences of 
all kinds. 



Life is coeval with breathing, but \ itality endures 
longer and acts beyond bodily limitations. Soul, 
the source of vitalitj-, is considered to be a thing 
jirecious and mysterious like a jewel or ball. It is 
called lama or tania-shii, ' subtle .aerial ball.' But 
it is not always a unity or a homogeneous whole, 
for double manifestations of it, or double entities, 
are spoken of. They are eitlier niqi-taina and ara- 
lama or salci-mitama and kusld-mitawi. The 
nigi, 'mild,' 'quiet,' 'refined,' is contrasted with 
the ara, which is 'wild,' 'raging,' 'raw.' Simi- 
larly, saki means ' liapjiy,' ' flouri.sliing,' while 
kuslii means 'wonderful,' 'hidden,' or 'hideous.' 
The l.itter set is believed to lie the two aspects of 
the aratama, the active side of the soul, but in 
fact the relation lictween these two sets is not 
clearly defined. The existence of these double'souls 
in every man is also obscure. We know only that 
in some cases c'.e of them appears, even to the 
astonishment of the pos.sessor. Whether or not 
the double souls were borrowed froHi the Chinese 
conception of souls, aerial and terrestrial, or of the 
two principles, positive and negative, is uncertain. 

The soul is sometimes personified as, e.g., Uga- 
no-mitama, the spirit of vegetable production, or 
as Iki-kuni-dama, the livingland-.soul. In post- 
liuddhistic ages the souls of trees, rocks, springs, 
etc. are more in vogue. The}' appear in human 
form, but they are distinguished from human souls, 
being specially named the sci, or 'essence.' The 
do\ibie souls were almost forgotten, having been 
overshadowed by Huddliistic ideas, and they were 
revived by the Shintoists of the 18th cent., but with 
little influence upon jiopular belief. Buddhism 
teaches that there is only one soul to one living 
being. 

As to future conditions, there is a kind of 
heavenly world, Takama-mi-hara (' Plain of High 
Heaven '), \\ here celestial deities reign. Yomotsu- 
kuni, mentioned above, is the opposite pole. 
Besides these, there are two worlds beyond 
this, Hi-no-waka-miya ('Solar Young Palace') 
and Tokoyo ('Eternal World'). The former is 
mentionc<l only as the abode of the Male-Who- 
Invites, and it is sometimes explained as meaning 
the shrine marking the place of burial. The latter 
meant any place beyond the sea. Moreover, we 
are not told whether a deity, when he hides liim- 
self, or a human being, when he dies, is destined 
to be born in one of these worlds beyond. Nothing 
definite or detailed is told of these conditions. A 
definite systematization of the eschatology, after 
the models of Buddhist ideas, was made only by 
the later Shintoists. 

The Japanese remained in rather primitive con- 
ditions as to the conceptions of life and death, until 
Buddhism introduced an elaborate system of ideas 
in the 6th cent. A.D. Contact with the civilization 
of the Asiatic continent and the importation of 
Confucianism with its writings may have influenced 
Japanese ideas in some respects, as jiointed out 
above. But these influences did not materially 
change the ideas, because Confucianism was not 
particular in such matters. On the other hand, the 
Buddhist influence upon the people of the East 
consisted chiefly in its elaborate eschatological 
doctrines. It taught the composite nature of human 
life, made up of tlie five components [skandha), in 
order to convince the pe<iple of its iinpermanency. 
Life, thus made uji, is only a knot in a long chain 
of causation, of deeds and their fruits (karma), 
which stretches out endlessly before and behind. 
Along this chain our souls have pa.ssed through all 
possible forms of existence, and will continue to 
transmigrate further on. There are live or si.\ 
courses (gnli) of transmigration, ranging from the 
highest iieaven of pleasurable life to the nether- 
most inferno ; and these are again classihed accord- 



LIFE AND DEATH (Jewish) 



39 



ing to the three conditions of existence (bhava), 
wliich are subdivided into twenty-tive. Beyond 
these courses and conditions tliere are the lands 
of eternal bliss, prepared by various Uuddhas to 
receive believers. Kvery one may be born in one 
of these, according to his faith and merit. The 
Tusita heaven of 5laitreya and the Sukhavati of 
Amitabha were the most popular Buddha-lands 
(ksetra) in the Buddhism brought to the East. There 
the soul, no longer subject to causation and trans- 
migration, will enjoy full communion with the 
saints, and may come back to the earthly worlds in 
order to save relatives and friends. We can imagine 
how wonderful and attractive these teachings must 
ha\e appeared to the people, simple and credulous 
as they were. Thus, an inscription dated A.D. 622 
expresses a lielief in karma and a devout wish t« 
be talcen to the Land of Purity by the grace of 
Buddha. It is questionable how much impression 
these ideas left upon the mind of the people at 
large a hundred years after their introduction ; 
but the change and widening of thought are 
undeniable. 

Steadily progressive Buddhist influence, first 
among the higher classes and then among the lower, 
gradually suppressed the old national ideas as well 
as the Coufucianist conceptions of life and death. 
Tlie romances, stories, and lyrical poems of the 
luth cent, and later abound in ideas of karmci, 
transmigration, and birth in Buddha-lands. Those 
ideas and beliefs became and remain to-day the 
most important factors of popular beliefs, in spite 
of hostile endeavours made by the Confucianists 
to depose them, ever since the 17th century. They 
can be detected in many songs sung by street 
musicians, and the words alluding to them are 
used in daily atl'airs, consciously or unconsciously. 

Nevertheless, the native ideas have never died 
o)it, but have remained rather as a kind of matrix 
into which the adc^pted conceptions have been laid. 
The national beliefs, so to speak, look upon the 
sun as the source of all vitality. But here the sun 
is not exactly the goddess of light (Ama-terasu) of 
the mythology. It is sexless and without any 
other attributes than that of the life-giver. It is 
invoked as the Great Divinity (Oho-mi-kami) or the 
August Heavenly Way (O-tento-sania), and is wor- 
shipped every morning by some, or on New Year's 
morning and at sunset on the equinoxes by the 
majority. They breathe deep breaths facing the 
sun, meaning to inhale thereby the vital essence 
dioki) emanating from it. At the same time 
prayers, either Shintoist or Buddhist, are uttered. 
The power opposing life is darkness, which, how- 
ever, means not merely absence of light, but an 
evil power or pollution (kegarc or yinki), the cause 
of ills and death. 

This belief in the sun as the life-giver is certainly 
a survival of that in the Producing-Divinity, who 
follows the Heaven-Shining goddess as her nou- 
menou. The ideas and practices have been in- 
fluenced by the Buddhist cult of Vairochana (the 
Great Illuminator) and also by the Confucian 
dualism of the yin and yrnui, but we can see here 
a tendenej to continue primitive beliefs. 

These ideas have been systematized in recent 
times into a cult by some Shinto reformers. One 
section of Buddhists favours this cult, while the 
other disregards it, though without opposing it. 
To the former belong the Shingon sect, the most 
Hinduistic form of Buddhism, which has tried to 
amalgamate Shinto, and the Nichiren sect, the 
most Japanized Buddhism. To the latter category 
belong the Jodo and the Shin sects, the Buddhist 
Pietists and Puritans, and the Zen sect, the school 
of meditation and introspection. 

On an average, the prevailing conceptions of the 
modern Japanese are based on the Buddhistic 



Shinio. Karma and fate are still believed in by 
many, but transmigration is not strictly adhered to 
in the details of its teaching. The majority, in 
fact, think little of life and of its origin ; but evils 
and diseases are, in many cases and by many 
people, ascribed to spirits or devils indiscriminately. 
Among the educated classes and educational circles 
agnosticism, so common to the Japanese mind and 
to Confucianists in this connexion, is a recognized 
principle. Young Buddhists, who are now eagerly 
engaged in reconstructing tiieir faith in Buddha, 
are not strict in the doctrines of karma and trans- 
migration. 

LiTERATCRE. — B. H. Chamberlain, Kojiki, Tokyo, 1882 ; 
W. G. Aston, yih'tiiir'. London, ISOtj, Shiut'}, do. 1906, 
pp. 84 f., 282, 292 f.; L. Hearn, (Jleaniivis in Buddha-Fields, 
Boston, 1897 : A. B. Mitford, 'Tales of Old Japan, London, 
1874, pp. 193-278. M. ANESAKI. 

LIFE AND DEATH (.Jewish). —Optimism is 
the keynote of post-Biblical Judaism. Everything 
that God does is for the best {Berakhoth, 60w), and 
this life is essentially good, to be contemplated with 
joy and gratitude. ' For every breath that a man 
draws,' say the Uabbis, 'let him praise God' {Midr. 
Rab. to Gn 'J'). Yet life is not an end in it- 
self, for it must be lived under a sense of respon- 
sibilitj' to the Giver, and all its worth resides in 
this aspect of it. At death a man loses the oppor- 
tunity of obeying the Torah and the Command- 
ment.-, (Shah. 30rr). ' Jlorality,' says M. Lazarus, 
summing up the teaching of Judaism on this sub- 
ject, 'is man's vocation' {Ethics of Judaism, § 116), 
and the Rabbinical legend tells of God's saying at 
Sinai : ' If Israel accept not the Commandments, it 
is better that the earth revert to chaos ' {Shab. 88a)- 
' The world,' say the Rabbis elsewhere, ' stands 
upon three pillars : the Torah, Worship, and Bene- 
volence' (Aboth, i. 2); or, according to another 
maxim, 'upon Justice, Truth, and Peace' (ih. 
i. 18). 'The Torah is the medicine of life' [Yoma, 
726) ; in other words, life is made sane and effi- 
cient by religion. C4od, according to the Talnmdic 
doctors, says to Israel : ' My light, the Torah, is 
in thy hands ; thy light, the soul, is in Mine. 
Tend My light, and I will tend thine' (Midr. Rah. 
to Lv 24-). The supreme hope of the Jew is to 
behold the Kingdom of God established on earth, 
and thus, in a notable passage of the Liturgy for 
the New Year Festival, he prays : 

' Put Thy fear, O Lord God, we beseech Thee, upon all Thy 
works, so that all mankind may bo-.v before Thee, and become 
one band united to do Thy will with a perfect heart ; for we 
know, O Lord, that dominion is Thine, and that strength is in 
Thy right hand. And so give glory, O Lord, to Thy people, 
hope to those that fear Thee, and the openini; of the mouth to 
those that trust in Thee. For then the righteous shall see and 
be glad, and iniquity shall shut its mouth, and all wickedness 
shall be wholly consumed like smoke, for the proud rule of sin 
shall pass away from off the earth. Then every creature shall 
ow n Tliee as its Creator, and everything that hath breath shall 
cry. The Lord, the God of Israel, reignetb, and His dominion 
ruleth over all ' (cf. Sir Z&«-). 

But, though the true life is the life of service, it 
must be glad service, for ' the view of life taught 
by Judaism is serious, but cheerful' (Lazarus, 
§ 253). The Shekinah (the Divine Presence), says 
the Talmud, does not come in response eitlier to 
grief or to levity, but to glad performance of duty 
(Shab. 306). This is the essence of Jewish doctrine 
on the subject ; neither asceticism nor hedonism, 
but joy springing from and tempered by the re- 
ligious idea, is the characteristic Jewish temper. 
' There should be no unrestrained laughter in this 
world' (Ber. 31«). The history of I.'^rael, with all 
its tragedy, is sufficient to forbid such mirth ; and 
the piijus'Jew denies himself many a pleasure in 
memory of desolate Jerusalem. Moreover, un- 
limited enjoyment is incompatible with a religious 
outlook on life ; the good man will conceive of 
himself as living under a Divine law, with which 



40 



LIFE AND DEATH (Jewish) 



liis pleasures must be made confonuable. On the 
other hand, tlie ascetic idea is alien to the true 
Jewish spirit. The desire for happiness is no evil 
thin};, and its indulgence, under right conditions, 
is commendable. Even tlie impulses that make 
for pliysical pleasure are the Di\'ine handiwork, 
and to gratify them is a duty ; without them life 
would be impossible. ' If it were not for desire, the 
world could not stand ; a man would not take a 
wife, nor build a hon.se, nor plant a vineyard' 
(Midr. T'hUHm, ed. S. liuljer, Wilna, 1801, to 
I's 37'). But indulgence of these lower instincts 
must have as its motive, not the satisfaction which 
it j'ields, but the desire to promote the Divine pur- 
pose for wliich they were created. That indulgence 
IS a duty, but a religious duty. 

Thus the Rabbinical law, following the general rule laid down 
in Ber. 35a, prescribes a number of prayers to be recit«d by the 
Jew on indulging in various pleasures more or less sensuous in 
character — on partaking, e.tj., of various kinds of food, on inhal- 
ing the scent of a flower, on looking upon the sea, on beholding a 
rainbow, on takingpossessionof a new house, and on wearing new 
clothes for the first time. By such means physical gratification, 
while sanctioned, is also sanctified. The tendency to self-in- 
dulgence is not rebuked, but restrained ; natural desire is 
tempered, not extirjiated or suppressed. * Material comfort 
and a-sthetical pleasures are regarded as integral parts of an 
ethically sound life' (Lazarus, § ii45X It is a Jewish boast that 
the Hebrew language is particularly rich in words connoting 
joy. The Rabbis count ten such synonyms (Aboth d' Rabbi 
Sathan (ed. S. Schcchter, Vienna, 1887], 52o). The Feast of 
Tabernacles is called the ' season of our gladness ' par ezceltencf 
(see Authorised Prayer Book, ed. S. Singer, p. 228); 'it would 
seem as though the Festival was instituted for tihe specific 
purpose of gladness, as though the religiousness of joy was to 
be indicated by ordaining a special celebration in its honour' 
(il. Joseph, Judaism as Creed and Li/e'^, p. 18.5). Joy is itself 
service ; but it must be transmuted into ser\ ice by being puri- 
fied. Pleasure must be dignified by piety and self-restraint. 
At meals, the Rabbis teach, words of Torah must be spoken, 
otherwise it is as if the assembled companj- ate of the sacrifices 
of the dead (Aboth, iii. 3). A man should eat only when he is 
hungry, and drink only when he is thirsty, and always in 
moderation (Hiillin, 84a, b). The Talmud inveighs against 
gluttony and luxury (_Pesachiin, 114a). In fine, Judaism com- 
mends the golden mean between unbridled self-gratification 
and extreme self-denial. Indulgence and renunciation must 
be allies, not antagonists ; something of both must go to 
the making of the daily life ; and each must find its justifica- 
tion in the higher utility. ' Here,' says Moses Luzzatto (18th 
cent.), ' is the true rule on this subject : — The worldly pleasures 
which a man needs not it is his duty to eschew ; but those 
which, for one reason or another, he does need he cannot 
renounce without sin. This is the safe rule. But its applica- 
tion to the various circumstances of life must be left to the 
intelligence and the conscience' (.t/fsi^z(A Yesharim, ch. 13). 
A far older teacher, Jehudah Halevi (12th cent.), aptly says : 
*Our law, as a whole, is divided between fear, love, and joy, by 
each of which one can approach God. Thy contrition on a fast 
day docs nothing to bring thee nearer to God than thy joy on 
the Sabbath and holy days, if it [the latter] is the outcome of a 
devout heart' (^Kitdb al-Khazari, tr. H. Hirschfeld, London, 
19u5, p. 113). 

It is due partly to the difficulty of defining the 
via media of moderation, and partly to the sorrow- 
ful experiences of the Jewish race, that occasion- 
ally temperance has overstepped the safe line, and 
lost itself in austerity. The Talmud tells of a 
Eabbi (Ze'ra) who fa.sted a hundred days (Baba 
metfiit. Son), and of another (Mar ben Kabina) 
who fasted practically all the year round (Pes. 
686). There have been Jewish sects, like the Es- 
senes and the IjLaraites {qq.v.), which have been 
marked more or less strongly by austere practices. 
In Judaism, as in other religions, mysticism has 
had contempt for the world and its joys as its 
corollary. The disciples of Ilillcl and Shammai 
even formally discussed the question whether life 
is worth living (Erubin, 136). This uncertainty 
is often visible. The devotee who gives himself 
to fasting is called, now a saint, and now a sinner 
(Tannitlt, 11«, 226) ; a man must die for the Torah, 
and yet he must not {Bnba kavm, &\a ; Erubin, 66); 
to sleep on the earth is commended in one place 
[Baraithn of R. Meir), and discouraged in another 
(Bcr. 626). Hut these contradictions are either 
passing or incidental [pha.ses of Jewish thought ; 
a firmer note is the rule, and the ascetic and the 



pe.ssimist are only by-products of Judaism. It is 
a bad sign, say the Rabbis, to despise life {Tana 
d'be Eliytihxi, ch. 14) ; and they account for the 
sin-oHenng brought bj' the Nazirite (Nu 6'*) by 
contending that his very abstinence from strong 
drink was a sin (Tn'anith, \\a). 

' According to our view,' says Jehudah Halevi (op. eit. p. 135), 
'a servant of God is not one who detaches himself from the 
world, or hates life, which is one of God's bounties. On the 
contrary, he loves the world and a long life because it affords 
him the opportunity of deserving the world to come.' 

According to a striking Talmudic utterance, in the 
next world men will be called to account for the 
lawful pleasures which they have refused in this 
life (Jer. Kiddtishin, ch. 4). And the real Jew 
sneaks in these maxims. Judaism fixes the 
thoughts of its adherents upon the future world, 
but not to the exclusion of tliis world. ' It has 
revealed heaven to men, but earth as well ' (M. 
Giidemann, Das Jurlcnthum, Vienna, 1902, p. 56). 
It has no sympathy with self -mortification for its 
own sake, no commendation for the temper that 
voluntarily courts pain and abridges life for the 
greater glory of God. Sullering has to be patiently 
endured when it comes ; it has even to be welcomed 
as the seed of moral regeneration. ' With thy very 
wounds I will heal tliee,' God, according to the 
Rabbis, cries to man (Midr. Bub. to Lv 15' (the 
reference is to Jer 30"]), and ' those whom God 
afflicts bear his name' (Midr. T'hillim to Ps 94'); 
' if thou desirest life, hope for affliction ' (ib. to Ps 
16"). Such utterances betoken not a worship of 
sorrow, but a recognition of its disciplinary power, 
of its value for the character, its significance for 
the life. Judaism sees no merit in sufl'ering, but 
only in the right bearing of it ; and between its 
teachings and the ide.as of the self-tormenting 
Hindu there is an impassable gulf. Suicide is a 
crime, and its perpetrator is not to be mourned 
(Midr. Rab. to Gn 9°; Maimonides, Hil. Eoseach, 
xi. 4) ; but the slow suicide that conies of self- 
mortification or of the neglect of health is also 
reprehensible. ' Ye shall keep my statutes, and 
my judgments : which if a man do, he shall live 
by them' (Lv 18') — 'live by them,' says the Rab 
binical gloss, ' not die by them ' ( Yoma, 856). 

Scattered among the motley contents of the Talmud are the 
materials for an entire treatise on medicine and hygiene ; and 
the fact is itself a proof of the importance attached to the 
physical life by the old Jewish sages. Personal cleanliness is 
exalted into a religious duty. UiUel (Ist cent. B.C.), on his way 
to the bath-house, tells his disciples that he is about to perform 
a sacred rite ; it is a religious duty, he explains, to tend the 
body, upon wliich God has stamped a di\ine beauty {Midr. Rab. 
to Lv 2535). Personal cleanliness, the Talmud teaches, is the 
avenue to spiritual purity (Aboda Zara, 206). The duty of pre- 
serving life, it further declares, overrides the religious law 
{Yoma, 85b). It is not only allowable, but a duty, to extin- 
guish a dangerous fire on tlie Sabbath day, and to ask permis- 
sion of the religious authorities is to incur delay and to be guilty 
of murder. The heads of the community are to be foremost in 
the humane task ()7/ 846). For the dead, even though he be King 
David himself, the .Sabbath must not be broken ; but it may be 
broken for the living, even for a child a day old. 'Put out,' 
says the Tahnud, * the light of a lamp on the Sabbath day rather 
than extinguish God's light of \ilt\Shab. 306). In a well-known 
passage in 1 Mac (2-''P^') the Jewish patriots are described as 
i-esolving to defend themselves on the Sabbath instead of pas- 
sively sacrificing their lives, as their brethren had done hitherto. 
Self-preservation is a duty. To slaj a fellow-creature at the 
command of another is a crime {P<;s. 256); but to slay him in 
self-defence is justifiable. If we are called upon to choose be- 
tween saving our own life and that of another, we nnist save our 
own {Baba mcfi'a, 62(1). Self-torture is forbidden {Baba kama, 
916), as is the courting of needless dan','er to life— by sleeping, ?.. 7., 
on the ground, or remaining in a dilajvidated house (T'a'anif/i, 
'206 ; Ber. 626). In certain ailments ' unclean * meat«, usually 
forbidden to Jews, may be given to the patient (Yoma, 83o). 

There are limits, however, to this reg.ard for the 
iihysical life. A man may break every law to save 
his life except those which forbid the three cardinal 
sins, idolatry, incest, and murder (San/i. 74<i). 
Those who "suller martvrdoni for the faith are 
justly lauded by the Talmud (Gilliji, 576). But, 
with these reservations, the dutv of preserving life 
Is paramount. Nothing must lie done to abridge 



LIFE AND DEATH (Jewish) 



41 



the duration of life even in the case of the dying 
(S/iab. 1516). 

The Talnuid has the story of a sage who, suffering martyrdom 
at the stake, is adjured by his disciples to end his agony by 
giving himself to the flames forthwith. He refuses. * God, 'he 
says, ' alone can take my life ; I may not ' {Aboda Zara, I8a). 

Regard for life is exalted into reverence. The 
gift of God, life must be treated with the utmost 
consideration. The Talmudic laws prescriVjing 
kindness to tlie lower animals are in part actuated 
by this motive. God has created the various types 
of animal life, and desires their perjietuation. It 
is man's duty to pay homage to the Divine wil\ in 
this as in every other respect, and to make himself 
tiie instrument for its fullilment (see Aaron of 
Barcelona, Scpher Hahinnukh [13th cent.], §§ 284, 
545). 

Life, then, according to the Jewisli idea, is not 
evil, but supremely good ; it is not a burden to be 
shuffled ofl' with a sigh of relief. 

' This w orld is not a vale of tears. It is a beautiful world, and 
men raust keep it beautiful by the inherent graeiousness of their 
own lives and by the joy they weave Into the lives of others. On 
the other hand! the true Israelite does not think of this world 
as his home. It is but a halting-place on the journey from one 
point in eternity to the other, "the ante-chamber to the palace " 
(Abolh, iv. le), "a wayside inn" (Mo'cd liatmi, 9b), the port 
where we nuist equip our bark if we would fare safely on our 
fatefvd voyage in the great Beyond ' (Joseph, p. 28T). 

Lite is not to be clung to unduly, or to be yielded 
up grudgingly. Wlien the Master's call comes, it 
must be obeyed cheerfully ; for, since He docs 
everything well, the decree that removes us is as 
wise and good as is tlie ordinance that places us 
here. ' Fear not,' says Een Sira, ' the sentence of 
death. . . . Why dost thou refiLse, when it is the 
good pleasure of 'tlie Most High ? ' (Sir 4P'-). This 
acceptance of death as the dispensation of Divine 
justice is the keynote of the ancient Jewish burial 
service, ^^•hich takes tlie form of a theodicy, and, 
indeed, is so styled. Its distinctive name is sidclul: 
haddin, ' ju.stilication of the Diviue sentence,' and 
its essence is expressed in the following quotation : 
'Righteous art Thou, O Lord, both when Thou killest and 
when Thou makest alive. ... It is not for us to murmur at Thy 
method of judging. . . . Blessed, then, be the righteous Judge, 
all Whose judgments are righteous and true. . . . The Lord gave, 
and the Lord liath taken away; blessed be the name of the 
Lord'(^w^Av/(VLrf Prayer Book, p. 318 f.). On hearing of the 
death of one dear to him, the devout Jew utters the benedic- 
tion ; ' Blessed be the righteous Judge ' {ib. p. 292). 
The Israelite, then, is taught not to desire death, 
but also not to fear it. If in life he sees the op[ior- 
tunity for service, in death he discerns the signal 
for ceasing his labours. He is so to live as to be 
ready for that signal whenever it is given ; his ' gar- 
ments are always to be white,' for ' who knowetli 
when the King may come?' (Shah. \5Zrt). And, so 
]irepared, he can await the unknown hour calndy. 

G. H. Palman is not warranted in charging the Jew, as does 
Max Miiller also in his Gifford Lectures {Antltrnpotogical He- 
li'jioil, London, 1S92, p. 369), with an undue dread of death. 
'The celebration of the New Year and the Da.v of Atonement," 
says Dalman, ' according to the notions attached to it by ortho- 
dox Judaism, instead of mitigating or banishing the fear of 
death, strengthens W,' {Christianity and Judaimn, Eng. tr., 
t)xford, 1901, p. 40). lie is doubtless thinking of the passionate 
prayers for life which fill so large a place in the liturgy for those 
solenm days. But those days are essentially days of penitence ; 
and, if the Jew supplicates for life, it is in order that by repent- 
ance and amendment he may put life to noble uses henceforth. 
Death itself has no greater terrors for him than it has for any 
other religionist. Judaism, at any rate, does not encourage 
such fears, but exhorts the Jew to contemplate death with a 
tranquil mind as the end and the climax of the well-spent life. 
Such a death, coming in its due season, is likened 
to the gathering of fully - ripened fruit or the 
quenching of the flame of a burnt-out lamp. The 
(leath to be dreaded is the morally premature one, 
which is compared to the gathering of the half- 
ripened fruit or the untimely extinction of the 
lamp (Midi-. Rub. to Gn 25*). Death is a natural 
ordinance ; his work finished, the worker must go 
and make room for his successor — Abraham for 
Isaac, Moses for Joshua, David for Solomon (Midr. 
T'hillim to Ps 116"). 'And God saw all that He 



had made, and behold it was very good' — it is 
death that is meant, says a Kabbi (Midr. Bab. to 
Gn P'). The death of the righteous is like the act 
of one who gently draws a hair from the surface 
of milk (Ber. Sa) ; this is called 'death hy a kiss' 
(Uababathra, 11a). The death of the wicked, on 
the other hand, is like the painful disentangling 
of a thorn from wool (Ber. 8a). Death is the 
liberator (S/iab. 30a) ; it is like the entering into 
port of a well-laden vessel (Midr. liab. to Ec 7'); 
lience it is that the Wise Man declares that ' the 
day of death is better than the day of one's birth' 
(ih.). It is fulfilment as compared with mere 
jiromise. Far from being the primeval curse, death 
is a blessing. The day that Adam died was made 
a holiday (Tana d'be Elii/ahu, ch. 16). ' The death 
of the righteous,' God says, ' is a grief to Me, and 
never should they die if they did not themselves 
ask for death ; for did not Abraham say, " I 
would be du.st and ashes," and Jacob, " Let me die 
now"?' (Midr. T'hillim to Ps 116'=). 

The idea, however, that life is desirable as the 
opportunit)' for obedience jiersistently recurs in 
the Rabbinical literature. The thought of its 
cessation, therefore, is not welcome. 

Even Abraham, who, as already indicated, prays for death, 
is represented (in the apocryphal Testament of Abraham) as 
being averse to it. He refuses to surrender his soul when the 
archangel Michael claims it ; and to win his compliance the 
angel, at the Divine bidding, puts off his fierce aspect, and 
appears to the patriarch clothed in light. In like manner the 
Angel of Death, finding David absorbed iji religious study and, 
therefore, invincible, has to divert his attention by a stratagem 
before he can perform his mission {Shab. 30b), 

The Angel of Death is a familiar figure in the 
Rabbinical literature, and, as in the later Biblical 
writings (e.g., 1 Ch ^l'"), he is armed with a sword. 
Its point is tipped with gall, and it is this bitter 
drop that slays (Aboda Zara, 206). Sometimes the 
weapon is described as a knife (Kctuboth, 776); 
scmietimes Death is pictured as strangling his 
victim with a cord. His presence in a town is 
betokened by the howling of dogs (Baba kaina, 
6o6). According to some ideas, Death is a fallen 
angel (Pirkc E. Eliczer, ch. 13), and identical with 
the Serpent in Eden (Wis 2-''). His name, which 
often occurs in Rabbinical literature, is Sammacl, 
i.e. 'the drug of God,' a reference to the gall on 
his sword. Liberal opinion, however, denied the 
existence of an Angel of Death, ju.st as it scouted 
the idea of a personal Devil. 'Satan, the Angel 
of Death, and Evil Desire are one and the same' 
(Baba bathra, 16«). In other words, it is ignoble 
impulse alone that tempts and destroys. Death, 
however, is the friend of men, especially of the 
righteous. Benevolence disarms him (Dcrck/i eres 
zuta, ch. 8) ; and he instructs the learned in reli- 
gious lore (Ber. 51a). He respects the wishes of 
the just as to when and where he delivers his 
summons (.Mo'cd kalon, 'lHu). 

.\ Talmudic legend tells how a famous sage, Joshua ben Levi, 
ajipointed to die, and permitted beforehand to see his place in 
p.iradise, seizes the kuife of the destroying an^el, whereupon 
a heavenly voice rings out the command, ' Give back the knife ; 
the children of men have need of it' (Ketuboth, 77b). Long- 
fellow has made good use of the story in his Leqcnd uj Rabbi 
ben Levi. 

The necessity of death, however, applies only to 
the existing worldly order. In the Golden Age 
there will be no death ; Messiah Himself will slay 
it (Pcsikta Rabbathi [ed. M. Friedmann, Vienna, 
1880], 16IJ [the Scripture jiroof cited is Is 2.')'']). 

As to the origin of death, various ojjinions are 
expressed. The familiar idea that death was 
brought into the world by Adam's sin has its place 
in Rabbinical literature (see Shab. 55b ; Eriibin, 
186; Tana d'be Eliyaha, ch. 5); but we find it 
much earlier in Sir 25-''. Closely connected with 
this idea is the legend, possibly of Persian origin, 
that the Serpent, when tempting Eve, infected hei 
and, through her, all mankind with his death-deal- 



42 



LIFE AND DEATH (Teutonic) 



iiig poison (.s7i-i6. 556, I46i( j Abodn Zara, 22b ; cf., 
further, Wis 2=*). According U> another view, 
iteatli was ordained nt creation, and the prim- 
eval sin merely hastened its comin;; (Tanehima 
to Gn 39'). Certain sages held that sin is 
the cause of death, and that there cannot be 
death without it; but this opinion wiis contro- 
verted by the majority. There were saintly men, 
it was objected, who had died without sin ; like 
tribulation, death is no pioof of transgression 
{Sliah. 55a, 6 ; Babn bathra. Via). But the good 
man, when he has finished his work, must make 
way, a-s already stated, lor his successor (ib. 30«). 
The saints of old, however, did not die in the same 
way as did other men. Over Mo,ses, i\(i. , the An^el 
of Death had no power ; God Himself t«ok his -soul 
from him ; and the same blessed death was vouch- 
.safed to the patriarchs and to other Scriptural 
heroes (Baba bathra. Via). Some great Biblical 
figures escaped death altogether, and went living 
into paradise ; Knoch, Elijah, and Hiram were 
among them (Dcrekh ens zuta, cli. 1). Of Elijah 
it >\as believed that he was still to be seen on 
earth, and there are stories in the Talmud describ- 
ing his apparitions (see, e.g., Ta'anith, 22ri). Death, 
moreover, has no power o\ex the phoenix, which 
renews it« youth every thousand years, this being 
its reward for refusing, alone among the creatures, 
to eat of the forbidden fruit oll'ered it by Eve 
(Midr. Bab. to Gn 3«). 

IjlTERML'BK. — Talmud and Midrasbim ; A. P. Bender, 'Be- 
liefs, Kites, and Customs of the Jew?, connected with Death, 
Burial, and Mourning,' JUR <■• (isys-oij and vii, [ISOI-o:.] ; 
S. Suwalski, Ckane Hayehudi, Wars,aw, 1S9S ; Hamburger's 
HE, an. *Tod': JE, art. 'Death'; M. Joseph, Judaism rt-s 
Creed and Life-, London, 191l> ; K. KoUer, tinnulriss einer 
siifUmatitichen Theologie deg Jifdenthum:<, Leipzig, 1910; M. 
i.sua.ms,Ethicso/Jttdaism, Ens.ed.. London. 19U1; F.Weber, 
Sijstein der altxifnaijofj. jtatdstin. Theolotjie, Leipzig, ISSO, 2nd 
ed. under title Jtid. Theot. auf Gruitd deb- Talmud, etc., do., 

IK)?. Morris Joseph. 

LIFE AND DEATH (Teutonic).— Our know- 
ledge of the conceptions of life and death among 
lirimitive Teutonic peoples can be gleaned from 
three fields: (1) the fragmentary information on 
Teutonic lieliefs and practices given by classical 
and early Christian writers ; (2) the organized 
religious belief of the Norse peoples, particularly 
the cult of the chief gods, which embodies beliefs 
common to the general Teutonic stock, and reveals 
traces of earlier ideas ; and (3) the great ma.ss 
of Teutonic tradition, folklore, superstition, and 
custom, both in e.'trly times and in modern survivals. 
From a study of this material it would appear that 
the processes of thought on these subjects among 
the early Teutons were very similar to those now 
formulated for all primitive peoples. The early 
Teuton, in dividing all that aft'eoted him into 
animate and inanimate, probably took for his 
criterion the power of motion ; from the confusion 
of this power with the faculty of volition animistic 
idea-s would arise in connexion with active natural 
phenomena, and, later, even with inanimate objects, 
while a still further development would appear 
in personitication, with inevitable sex-distinction, 
and in symbolistic beliefs. The criteria for the 
attribution of death would be the lo.«s of the power 
of motion and the phenomena arising from it ; from 
the observation of sleep, dreams, trances, etc., 
would spring animistic beliefs. A further stage 
would appear in the identification of the principle 
of life with those intangible or tangible manifesta- 
tions, such as breath, warmtli, cohmr, pulsation, 
or blood, with whose imnianeine in the body life 
is obviouslj' connected ; hence the belief in a 
material form of the soul, leading to the idea of 
the 'external soul.' Of the later forms of belief 
Teutonic folklore and myth give ample evidence, 
allowing one to presuppose the earlier stages. 



I. The principle of life in nature.— The four 
elements are constantly represented as imbued 
with life, and as able to transmit or to pro<hu'e it. 
The strength of the belief in running water is 
shown by the wide-spread Teutonic worship of 
streams ami springs (cf. tirimm. Tout. Mythol., p. 
101). and the practice of bathing in magic springs 
testifies to tlie ])ower of water to give life and 
health (cf. Krazer, GB^, pt. vii., Balder the 
Bcaitliful, ii. 29). The personification of the 
living element in water is generally feminine. 

The belief in life inherent in fire is shown by 
the general Teutonic myth of Wieland, originally 
doubtless a fire demon, and by the Norse personi- 
fication of fire as Logi, later confused with, and 
superseded by, Loki. The life-transmitting powers 
of tire appear in the customs still practised through- 
out Teutonic Europe, at the ceremonial bonfires, 
especially at Easter and Midsummer [ib. ch. iv. ; 
note that Frazer admits the existence and signi- 
ficance of these customs, although he deviates 
[ch. v.] from Maniiliardt's explanation of fire- 
festivals).' Akin to fire-beliefs is the belief in 
the quickening power of the sun, shown in the 
connexion between the summer solstice and the 
Midsummer fires, and in the custom of rolling 
fiery wheels or other sun-symbols. A curious 
example of belief in the generative power of 
lightning occurs in the superstition that mistletoe 
is produced by a lightning-stroke. The connexion 
between fire and human life appears in the re- 
presentation of souls as flames or will-o'-the-wisj)S. 
Air has always had an important connexion 
with the principle of life under two chief aspects : 
first, breath, the symbol of life (cf. Volmpd, 18); 
secondly, wind or whirlwind. Wind made known 
the presence of mysterious beings, and in OMnn, as 
god of the wlnd,"tlie slain, and the ' Wild Host,' 
is the culmination of the connexion of wind with 
the continuance of life in the soul. 

The primitive conception of the earth as Mother 
of all appears widely in Teutonic belief (cf. art. 
Earth, Earth-god's, § 6f.). Early personifica- 
tions of her occur (Ncrthus, Erce), and her life- 
giving and restoring power appears in charms in 
which sods, turfs, or handfuls of earth figure ; 
many of these, whether in Old English or in 
modern survivals, are Christianized, but their 
origin is unmistakable. The earth's living power 
is transferred even to inanimate objects resting 
on or discovered within her, such as stones and 
metals ; -we find a life-stone that heals wounds 
(L'lxda-la Saga, 58 f.). Stones and metals, like 
plants, fire, and water, were credited with volition, 
as in the story of Balder, and the early idea of the 
conscious power of weapons (cf. ' the sword that 
fights of itself ' [Skinnxmdl, 8 f.]) was long retained 
in poetry and folk-tales. 

The clo.se connexion of trees with the principle 
of life is jiroved by the well-attested Teutonic 
worship of trees, and by the idea of the World- 
Tree, with its popular parallels in the identifica- 
tion of trees with the guardian-spirits of peoples, 
tribe-s, families, or individuals (see Hamadryads 
[Teutonic]). The use of plants and fruits to convey 
life is frequent even in modern superstition, and 
an early instance occurs in the Vvhunga Saga 
(ch. i.), wliere the cjueen becomes pregnant after 
eating one of Freyja's apples. The ashes of the 
Yule and Midsumiiier logs were touched and kei)tfor 
the same purpose (cf. BkaNCHK.s AND TwKis, § 5). 
Certain animals, particularly the boar, had a 
special connexion with the power of life and its 
transmission ; others had an intimate connexion 
with individual human beings, and from this 
arises the power of transference or of shape- 
> W. Uannhardt, BamnkuUu* dtr Gtrmanen, lierlin, 1876, 
p. bil a. 



LIFE AND DEATH (Teutonic) 



43 



changing. Another form of tliis sympathetic 
connexion apjiears in the 'external soni'; hut 
totemistic ideas, tlie logical conchision of Jeposit- 
ing tlie external soul in animals, seem never to 
have developed among the Teutons (K. Helm, 
Altgerm. Beligionsgesch., i. 23 ff'.). In heroic 
saga the infant hero is sometimes suckled by an 
animal, as were Wolfdietrich and Sigurbr Sven. 
The serpent, in other cults so important a symbol 
of life, because of the renewal of its skin, has 
little connexion with life-conceptions in Teutonic 
mythology. The tenacity of the belief in individual 
lire in the natural world appears in frequent 
personihcation, though it is sometimes difficult 
to distinguish between nature-personiiications and 
those local deities ^\■hich abound in Teutonic belief, 
but which may be a later development. 

It is a moot point whether the primitive Teuton 
believed in a universal life-giving spirit; without 
going so far as to assume a monotheistic origin for 
Teutonic mythology, we can yet believe that the 
principle of life was early personihed, though 
whether as earth-spirit or as sky-spirit it is imjjos- 
sible to decide. Animistic thought generally tends 
to the latter, but the Nerthus evidence, the Nertlms- 
Freyr combination, and the Swedish worship of 
Freyr as a fertility deity all point to the former. 
All the chief gods had some connexion witli 
productivity, and traces of phallic worship are not 
lacking [ib. i. 214-225). The origin of world-life 
has already been treated (see Cosmogony and 
Cosmology [Teutonic]) ; the revival of world-life 
and its different phases were celebrated at the 
Easter, Midsummer, and Yule festivals. 

2. The origin of individual life. — The Teutonic 
conception was prevented from becoming meta- 
physical by that material view of the soul wliicli 
is illustrated by the ceremonies followed at birth 
(see Birth [Teutonic]) ; and the lack of individual- 
ism in the life-conception is shown by the import- 
ance attached to bfood-kin.ship, lieredity, and re- 
birth. Blood-kinshi]i was the closest of ties, and 
the mingling of blood was the sjnnbolic ceremonial 
for sworn brotherhood (cf. art. Brotherhood 
[ArtiUcial], i. 7). The power of heredity consisted 
in the transmission of racial qualities, especially 
courage and hardihood, as in the case of Sinfjotii 
(Volsunga Saga, 8). The idea of re-birth, which 
still persists, was deeply rooted in Norse belief, and 
accounts for the constant pre-Christian custom of 
naming children after dead ancestors ; tlie name 
was of great efficacy in the attraction of ancestral 
qualities, and even implied the transmission of a 
personality. The impossibility of re-birth was 
considered a misfortune (cf. P. Herrmann, Nord. 
Mythol., p. 35 fi'. ). Similarly, thehamingja, or genius 
in female form, could transfer itself from the dead 
to a beloved kinsman ( Viga Gli'ims Saga, 9). The 
diH'ei'ent stages of human life were little regarded j 
we know of no initiatory ceremonies at adolescence, 
although Karl Veaison {Chances of Dcn/h, London, 
1897, vol. ii. ch. ix.) con.siders that the licentious 
character of medioaval Walpurgisnacht revels proved 
their origin as sexual festivities; otherwise we 
hear only of military ceremonies (Tac. Germ. 13) 
or of heirship feasts [Ynglinga Saga, 40). 

The material representation of the soul was 
probably induced bj' the observation of dreams and 
similar phenomena, where the soul apjiears to have 
an independent existence, or by the location of the 
.soul in various organs of the body, as the li\'er, 
heart, or head. An extension of this material 
representation appears in the doctrine, common to 
all Teutonic peoples, of the ' external soul ' ; the 
chief evidence is the story told by Paulus Diaconus 
(de Gest. Langohardorum, iii. 33)of King Gunthram, 
whose soul was once oliserved to issue 'in modum 
reptiUs ' from his- mouth during sleep. Survivals 



of this idea in fairy-tales show the control exercised 
by the individual over his external soul, generally 
by depositing the soul in a place of a|)parent safety, 
in an object or plant, and thereby prolonginj^ 
indefinitely the body's existence (cf. Frazer, ii. 
116ir'. ; CV, ch. v.). A case of control exercised 
by an external and malignant power is that of 
Nornagestr, whose life was identilied with a burn- 
ing candle {Saga af Kornagesti, 11). The soul's 
power to assume animal form and to go on journeys 
(hamfarir), leaving the body sleeping, accounts for 
liamramir, or shape-changers, and confusion of 
such ideas with the observation of states of super- 
normal activitj' appears in accounts of berserks- 
gangr and shape-changing (see Transmighation 
[Teutonic] and Lycanthkopy, § i). 

An extensive power over the principle of life 
was acquired by magic, chiefly sympatlietic, pro- 
pliylactic, or coercive, and it waspos.sible to induce 
animal and vegetable fecundity, as by the sym- 
pathetic magic of the Midsummer tires. Instances 
of the .sacritice of human life to ensure vegetable 
fecundity occur in the immolation of the kings 
Domaldi and Olafr {Ynglinga Saga, IS, 47); a 
slightly diflerent case is that of Auun, who gained 
an added ten jcars of life for each son sacrificed 
(16. 29). Magic use of plants, etc., and of charms 
could induce prolilic human life, and facilitate the 
soul's coming {Sigrdrifuindl, 9). Life could be 
l-irotected or prolonged by various practices, such 
as passing the individual through a cleft tree or 
hollow stone (cf. Crimm, p. Il(i7 ; Frazer, ii. 
168ft'.); the story of Balder exemplifies jjiophy- 
lactic magic to secure invulnerability. By spells 
poison could be rendered innocuous {Egils Saga, 
44, 75, 79), and sickness prevented or cured, while 
the perpetual battle of the Hja'5'ninga exemplifies 
the power to renew life indefinitely {Skaldska- 
piirmAl, 47). Charms also had power to suspend 
life (cf. the sleepthorn), and to harm or destroy it ; 
metamorphoses were often compulsory, the result 
of external magic. 

3. The conception of death in nature. — The 
elements have all a death-dealing as well as a 
life-giving power, esi)ecially fire ami water ; water 
acquires a maleficent power on Midsummer Daj', 
and demands a human victim ; similarly, many 
vegetable and animal objects had death-dealing 
powers, inherent or temporarily acquired. 

4. The conception of individual death. — This 
arose from the phenomena attending sleep, which 
foreshadowed the soul's departure ; the soul is 
still materially represented as issuing from the 
mouth in the form of a bird or mouse, and its exit 
is facilitated in every way. In Norse mytho- 
logy the dead made an actual journey, and needed 
shoes to travel the Hel road. The idea of cessa- 
tion of activity after death, if it ever existed, was 
soon superseded, as is proved by the universal 
custom of providing the dead with material imple- 
ments ; the earliest tombs contain cups and vessels, 
not armour and weapons — a sign that at first feast- 
ing, not fighting, w.as to be the chief occupation. 
Activity after death could be exercised still on 
earth, but it v\as then frequently malignant, and 
could be j)revented only by burning the corpse 
{Laxdoela Saga, 17, 24). Spirits could return in 
animal or in iiuiiian form {Erbyggja Saga, 51, 53), 
and hauntiugs show the ])Ower of ghosts to afl'ect 
the living ; fear was probablj' as great an incentive 
to ancestor-worship as reverence. Activity in 
another world was materiaUy conceived as a close 
parallel to mortal life, as is jiroved by the nature 
of the implements provided, and such activity was 
often localized in sepulchral howes {ib. IJ). The 
Valhalla belief is the final poetic development of 
the conception of OSinn as god of the .slain ; in a 
less warlike age a more peaceful prefiguremeut 



44 



LIFE-TOKEN 



arises, the Rosengnrten of tlie later Hcriimn poets ; 
Saxo (Jrainmatiuus's account {Gcxta Danorum, i. 
31) of Haddinji's voyage to tlio under world repre- 
sents an intermediate stage (cf. art. Blest, Adode 
OF THE [Teutonic]). The power of death was in- 
e.xorable and inevitable, even tlie gods being 
doomed to perish at the worUl-death. Death was 
personitied in many forms : as a messenger, or as 
an enemy. Tlie Norse Hela was certainly at lirst 
a Teutonic Proserpine, however shadowy : subse- 
quently, her personality was not distinguished 
from lier abode. Popular and grotesque j>ersoni- 
fications of death prevailed later, and gave rise to 
the idea of weakening death's power by insulting 
or beating a tangible representation (Grimm, \<. 
767). 

In spite of the undoubted fatalism of Teutonic 
peoples (see art. Doom, Doom myths [Teutonic]), 
the belief, born of in.stinct and desire, prevailed 
that magic enabled man to exercise a twofold 
power over death : lirst, in retarding or hastening 
death ; secondly, in controlling and summoning 
spirits (Erbyggjn Saga, 55). Preventi\e magic 
against death might include the wide range of 
charms to preserve health, prevent barrenness, 
heal sickness, or stanch blood. Coercive magic 
to compel death was apparentlj' as frequent as 
preventive, though naturally more secret. It was 
l>i)ssible to foresee the doom of death upon others, 
and also to have the jiremonition of it in oneself — 
to be fey. The summoning of spirits [helruiw), 
performed by means of the valgaldr, became in 
Norse mythology an important branch of magic 
art (see Magic [Teutonic]). 

5. The ethical aspect of life and death.— It is 
dithcult to deduce tlie ethical outlook of the average 
Teuton on life and death because of the extremely 
objective character of tlie literature, but the non- 
moral aspect of world-life and world-death is proved 
by the fact that the end of the world comes 'auto- 
matically,' involving the gods also. Respect for 
the principle of life is [iresupposed by the im- 
portance attached to fertility and all that pro- 
motes it ; but this was instinctive, and originally 
entirely non-moral. Respect for individual life 
rarely appears, except in kinship ; the slaughter 
of kin was abhorred as violating the blood-tie 
(Saxo Cirammaticus, Gesta Danorum, ii. 1 ; Beo- 
tt'H//', 2436 tf. ) ; but even this was probably due more 
to tribal than to 7noral instinct. Custom rather 
than morality governed the sacrifice or the re- 
tention of life, as in the case of the Gothic widows 
(Procopius, ch Bello Goth. ii. 14). Chivalrous 
sparing of life was little known, for Saxo Gram- 
niaticus's assertion to the contrary can hardly 
be substantiated from earlier literature (Gesta 
Danorum, v. 160). The fatalism so deeply in- 
grained in the Teutons coloured their whole 
outlook, but it was untinged by remorse for an 
ill-spent life or by fear of coming punishment; 
and the lack of a moral division after deatli is 
so general that it is tempting to explain apparent 
inconsistencies by the theory of Christian influ- 
ence. Suicide was allowable when due to grief 
for a friend or kinsman, and was more honourable 
than an ignoble death (cf. Saxo (Irammaticus, tr. 
U. Elton, London, 18!)4, p. xxxvi). The practice 
of human sacrilice iJoints to little resjiect for 
human life in the abstract (see art. Human 
Sacrifice [Teutonic]); the fact that such sacri- 
fices were jirojiliylactic or projiitiatory was held 
sufficient justilicatioii, if indeed any were neces- 
sary. There certainly .seems to lia^'e been a strong 
iileaof sacrilicing the life and welfare of the one 
to that of the many. It would aild greatly to our 
knowledge and the interest of the subject if, in 
the account of prophylactic sacrilices, the least 
cine were given to the mood and temper of the 



victim — whether be were merely jia.ssive under 
compulsion or a willing and exalted sufi'crer. 

LlTERATCRB.— J. G. Frazer. GD', pi. vii., BcUdrr the Beauli- 
fill, 2 \ol9., London, 1913; J. Grimm, Teul. Mythol., tr. J. S. 
Slallybrass. do. 1882-SS, ihs. xix.-xxi.\., xxxiv.-xxxviii.; P. 
Herrmann, Nord. 3/t(/loZ., Leipzig, 190:i, pp. 31-99, 638-607; 
K. Helm, Altaerm. lieUijwmgcsch., lloidelberg, 1913, i., sec- 
tions vi.-xi.; W. Golther, llaudb. der germ. Mi/tkul., Leipzig, 
1895, pp. 72-110; P. D. Chantepie de la Saussaye, Rel. 0/ 
Ikr Teutons, Boston, 1902, c)i<i. iii., .\i,, xviii., xx., xxi.; E. 
Mogk, 'Mythologie,' in H. I'aul, Gruiidr. iter ijerm. I'hilo. 
loijie^, iii. Strassburg, 1900, chs. v., xv. ; E. H. Meyer, Verm. 
Mythol., Berlin, 1891, ch. iv. HX. E. SEATON. 

LIFE, FUTURE.— See State of the Dead. 

LIFE-TOKEN.— 'Life-token' or 'life-index' 
is the tcilinical name given to an object the con- 
dition of which is in popular belief bound up with 
that of some jjerson, and indicates his state of 
health or sal.iy. The object may be an artifact, 
such as a tool, a weapon, or an ornament ; or it 
may be a tree or plant, an animal, or even a well, 
or a vessel of water or some other liquid. The 
most familiar examples are found in the Arabian 
Nights. In the story of ' The Two Sisters who 
envied their Cadette,' with which Galland con- 
cluded his version (cf. R. F. P.urton, Supplemental 
iVi<;/i<«, London, 1SS6-88, iv. 4'Jltt'. ), Prince Bah man, 
on departing in search of the talking bird, the 
golden water, and tlie singing tree, leaves with his 
sister a hunting-knife, the blade of which will 
remain clean and bright so long as he continues 
safe and sound, but will be stained with blood if he 
be slain. His brother, following him, leaves a string 
of pearls, which will run loose upon the string 
while he is alive, but after his death will be found 
fixed and adhering together. 

The incident is, in fact, common in folk-tales all 
over the world where the hero goes on a jierilous 
adventure, and his friends require early information, 
that they may iu case of need sally forth to rescue 
or avenge him. It is necessary here to draw atten- 
tion only to one wide-spread cycle — that of the 
modern >ariants of the ancient Greek story of 
Perseus. In these tales Perseus is often represented 
by three sons, born in consequence of their mother's 
having jjartaken of a magical fish. Some portion 
of the ofl'al of the fish is buried in the garden ; a 
tree grows on the spot and becomes the life-token 
of the children. Sometimes a portion of the fish's 
Mood is preserved, by its direction, in phials, one 
for each of the children, to boil or become turbid 
in case of misfortune. In a story from Pisa the 
lisli-bone is fastened to a beam in the kitchen, and 
sweats blood when anything untoward happens to 
any of the boys. 

There is thus an original organic connexion be- 
tween the life-token and the person whose condition 
it exhibits. This connexion supplies the iiiterpre- 
t.ation. The life-token is derived from the doctrine 
of sympathetic magic, according to which any 
portion of a living being, though severed, remains 
ill mystic union with the bulk, and is aft'ected by 
« hatever may allect the bulk. .Sympathetic magic, 
however, is not confined to folktales: it has a 
practical bearing. It is apjdied in witchcraft and 
folk-medicine to the injury or to the benefit of 
liiiman beings and every (diject that comes into 
relation with them. Accordingly, we find the life- 
token not only in folk-talcs, but also in everyday 
custom and superstition. 

A Btriltin^' .and pathetic example 0( ft severed portion of a 
liuman being fnipln\ c;l us liib life.toi.c-n is recorded in the United 
.States. Early in tlie last centurv a bov in Grafton County, New 
Hampshire, was so badl\ sr.ildeu lliat a picoc of Iiis sliin, fully 
an inch In rliameter, sU)u;,-bed off, anri was rarefullv troa-siired 
by his mother. When he grew up, lie left home and was never 
lieard of after ; but iiis mother used from time to time to examine 
the fragment of sltin, persuaded that, so long as it w.x-* sound, 
her son was nli\ e and well, and tliat it would not begin to decay 
until hie death. For thirty years, until her death about the 



LIFE-TOKEN 



45 



year 1843, she kept it ; and thenceforth her daughters continued 
to do so under the influence of the same belief (JAFL vi, 
[1803] 60). 

This convenient metlioil of providing a life-token 
from tlie substante of one's own body is, lio\\ever, 
not always available. Fortunately, the doctrine of 
sympathetic magic applies equally to o]>jects de- 
nveci less directly from the person. Just as in the 
tale the ofl'al of the hsh buried in the garden grows 
up into the tree and becomes the life-token of the 
children who owe their birth to, or perhaps are a 
transformation of, the fish, so trees are in actual 
life planted for the purpose. 

The n:i\ elstring: of a Maori child was buried in a sacred place, 
and a young sapling planted over it expressly as the babe's * sign 
of life' or life-token (R. Taylor, Te Ika a Maui: Xeio Zealand 
and its Inhabitants^, London, 1870, p. 1S4). Sometimes it was 
buried at the foot of a tree or bush. If the tree or bush after- 
wards * showed signs of decay or died, the results would be 
similar to the child' (Joitrn. Ethnol. Soc. i. [1S69] 73). In the 
latter case an already existing tree is appropriated as the life- 
token by uniting the child with it through the medium of the 
cord. In the same way, in Germany the afterbirth is thrown or 
buried at the foot of a young tree, and the child is expected 
to grow with thetree andtliriveas it thrives (K. Eartsch, Saj/cu, 
Marche^i tind Gebrduche aus Meklenburg, Vienna, 18S0, ii. 43 ; 
Am Urqaell, v. [1894] 253). Though it is not now common thus 
to unite the child with the tree, the practice of planting a tree 
at the birth of a child is still frequent in Europe. In Aargau 
(Switzerland) an apple-tree is planted for a boy, a pear-tree for 
a girl; and it is definitely believed that the babe will thrive or 
die like the young tree (W. Mannhardt, Wald- und Fcldknlte, 
Berlin, 1875, i. ' Baumkultus,' p. 50, citing Rochholz). Numerous 
remains of thia practice and belief are found in tradition all 
over Europe. 

The caul with which some children are born also 
becomes an index of their health and prosperity. 
For this purpose great care is taken of it. 

Among the Letts of Russia to lose it betokens misfortune for 
the child (R. Sobert, EUt. Studienaxisdem pharmakol. Inst, dfv 
kais. C^uicersitdt Dorpat, W. [Halle, 1894] 229). In England and 
Scotland its condition, whether soft and flabby or hard, dry, 
and stiff, indicates coming misfortune or prosperity (S. O. Addv. 
Household Tales, London, 1895, p. 120; J. G. Dalyell, Darter 
SuperstitJoyts o/ Scotland, Glasgow, 1835, p. 32G). 

But, as in the stories, the life-token is not always 
determined at the^ birth of the person whose fate 
is indicated by it. Wiien a child has been passed 
througli a young ash-tree split for the purpose, in 
order to cure infantile hernia, the tree is bound 
up and plastered, in the hope that it may grow 
together again ; and according to the success of 
the treatment the child is expected to recover or 
not. More than this, so intimate has the connexion 
between the tree and the child become by the 
operation that, if the tree be aftei'wards felled, the 
child will die. Thus the tree i<j not merely depen- 
dent upon the fate of the child ; the child is also 
depen<lent on the fate of the tree. This mutual 
dependence is sometimes expressly mentioned in 
the stories also. It results from the close con- 
nexion established between the human being and 
the object constituted as the life-token. In the 
stories it is often forgotten ; generally in practice 
it is at least implicit. 

On the Eastern peninsula of Maryland, opposite Baltimore, 
when a member of a family leaves home, a bit of live-for-ever 
is stuck in the ground to indicate the fortune of the absent one. 
It will flourish if he prospers ; otherwise it will wither and die 
(JAFL iv. [1S91] 152). At Rome every Emperor solemnly 
planted on the Capitol a laurel, which was said to wither when 
he was about to die. A successful general to whom a triumph 
was accorded also planted on the occasion, in the shrubbery set 
by Livia, a laurel, similarly believed to wither when he wag 
about to die. Two myrtle-trees grew before the temple of 
Quirinus, one called the Patrician tree, the other the Plebeian. 
So long as the Senate maintained its power as the supreme 
authority of the State, the Patrician tree flourished. But it 
began to fail at the time of the Social War, when the Plebs 
successfully asserted their rights, and the Plebeian tree, hitherto 
sickly and shrivelled, gained the superiority (Pliny, HN xv. 36). 
The Daynks of Borneo are accustomed on certain occasions to 
plant a sort of palm, which is regarded, in the fullest sense of 
the word, as a life-token. If it grows prosperously, they can 
reckon on good fortune ; but, when it fades or dies, the person 
concerned has to expect the reverse (Wilken. Vers^preide Ge- 
schriften, u\. 562n.). In Germany, at Hochheim, Einzingen, 
and other places near Gotha, two young trees are planted at a 
wedding by the bridal pair, on the property of the commune. 
It either of the trees withers, one or the other of the spouses 
will shortly die (Mannhardt, p. 48). 



Turning now to artificial objects — an illustration 
may be given from a somewhat unexpected quarter. 

Father George E; li, reporting in the Annales de la Pro- 
pagation de la Foi (1898) a recent visit to Easter Inlanfl, 
relates that the native converts persistently inquired after 
another Roman Catholic missionary. Father Albert Moidilon, 
who had previougly visited them. They said that he had cauweci 
the great stone cross in the cemetery of Hangaroa to be set up, 
and told them : ' When you see this cross fall, you will say, 
Father Albert hag just died ; let us pray for him." Father Eich 
went to see the cross, and found that it had in fact fallen, but 
had been set up again, and bore traces of its fall. On question- 
ing them to ascertain the precise date of its tall, he found tliat 
it coincided exactly with that of Father Albert's death in Spain, 
26th Feb. 1894 (t'L xi. [1900] 436, quoting the Annales at 
length). 

This kind of life-token easily lends itself to 
divination concerning the health or prosperity of 
absent friends, or even the prospects of life of actual 
members of the household. 

In Tlinringia, when it is desired to know whether absent 
children or other kinsmen are still living, all that is necessary is 
to stick a loaf of bread with ears of corn before putting it into 
the oven. Eacli of the ears is designated by the name of one 
of the absent persons concerning whom inquiry is made ; 
and, if any of them be scorched in the process of baking, 
the person symbolized is assuredly dead (A. Witzschel, Sagen, 
Sitten JiJid debrdi'che aus Thuringen, Vienna, 187S, ii. 251). 
Zulu women, when their husbands go to war, hang the con- 
jugal sleeping-mat on the wall of their hut. So long as it 
casts a shadow on the wall, the husViand is safe ; when it ceases 
to do BO, he is believed to be dead (T. Arbousset and F. Daumas, 
Exploratory Tour, Cape Town, 1S46, p. 145 ; cf. H. Callaway, 
Rel. System of the Amaznlu, Natal, 1870, p. 120). Fire or a 
candle is often employed. In Brittany a sailor's wife who has 
been long without tidings of her husband makes a pilgrimage 
to some shrine and lights a taper before the saint. If her hus- 
band is yet alive and well, it bums well ; otherwise the flame 
will be poor and intermittent, and will go out (A. Le Braz, 
Ligende de la mort en Easse-Bretagn^, Paris, 1893, p. 6). The 
Ivei Islanders in the Moluccas perform a similar ceremony. 
When men are absent on a voyage, rude lamps, consisting of 
sea-sliells iilled with oil and containing wicks, are lighted with 
a sort of soleum ritual at the sacred fire. Each lamp represents 
one of the absent men. A straight and steady flame indicates 
that the man represented is well in body and soul ; but, if the 
flame wavers or bums badly, an e\il augury is drawn {Aiitkro- 
pon, V. [1910] 354). When the men go from Yule Island, off the 
coast of New Guinea, to the Papuan Gulf for sago, a fire is lit ; 
if it goes out, * there will be bad luck for the voyagei-s, conse- 
quently care is taken to keep the fire alight during the whole 
time the men are away' (A. C. Haddon, Head-hunter k, London, 
19U], p. 259). A Shawnee prophet tried to persuade Tanner, 
when living among the Indians, that the fire in his lodge was 
intimately, connected with his life. .\t all seasons and in all 
weathers it was to remain alight; for, if he suffered it to be 
extinguished, his life would be at an end (J. Tanner, Captivity 
and Adventures, New York, 1S30, p. 155). 

The last two cases are interesting examples of 
the ambiguity already noticed in the relation 
between tlie object and the person with whose life 
it is bound up. They naturally act and react 
upon one another. Whatever affects the one 
atlects the other also. The object thus con- 
nected by a mystic bond with a human life has 
sometimes been called the 'external soul.' It is 
perfectly true that in the stories the life of ogre or 
hero is frequently said to depend on an object 
Uidden safely away, and that this object is occa- 
sionally described as the owner's soul. Sometimes, 
as in the ancient Egyptian story of 'The Two 
Brothers,' it is called by the equivalent name of 
his heart. More commonly it is referred to simply 
as his life. It is also true that in savage belief the 
soul is separable from the body : it goes forth in 
dreams ; sickness is caused by its absence ; a com- 
plete severance is death. Care is taken on import- 
ant occasions, as at marriage or change of dwelling, 
or at a funeral, to cage and retain the soul, and in 
sickness to recall it from wandering and restore it 
to the patient's body. But, as in the stories, so in 
the practices and superstitions, the object in mystic 
relation with a man is by no means always called 
his soul, or said to contain his soul. It seems, 
therefore, to be going somewhat beyond the facta 
to apply to it a word expressing a definite concep- 
tion when it is not applied by the people holding 
the superstition or exercising the custom. Ideas 



46 



LIFE-TOKEN 



are often v.igne, nnd, wlicve they are so, to affix 
terms to tlieiii wliicli connote to us something 
definite is to darken counsel. 

In Nk'cria a iricat tree frenueiitly stands in a village, and is 
liuiifr witli niefliiiiie ond volivo offerings. It is dewrihert l\v 
the villagers as ' our Life,' and it is in some sense worshipped .'is 
a Rod (C'. PiirtridKe, Cross Hirer Natives, London, 1005, pp. 194, 
2(t5X The n»o. speaking Nejiroe.i of Awka declared that such a 
tree had ' the life or hrenth of the priest in it.' Not long ago 
the tree died aTid the priest 'died at th,> same time hecausc the 
tree had died' (N. W. Thomas, Ibo-S)ienkiii'j Peoplrs, I^ondon, 
1913, i. '29). The Montols of Northern Ni;jeria helieve that at 
the birth of every individual of their race, male or female, 
a snake of a certain non-poisonous sjiecies which haunts the 
dwelling is also born. Krom the nionient of birth the snake 
and the man share a life of connnon duration, and the measure 
of the one is the measure of the other. Hence every care is 
taken to protect those anini;ils from injury; and it is said that 
they are quite harmless to human beings (journ. Afr. Soc. x. 
[1910] 30). So at Home every man was deemed to be accom- 
panied throughout life by a. genius, to which he owed all his 
gifts and goc3 fortune. The genius was represented by, or 
incorporate in, a snake, which was never killed, but en- 
couraged in the house, and even in the sleeping.chaniber. The 
result was, according to Pliny, that snakes multipHed to such 
an extent that, if they had not been kept down by frequent 
fires, it would have been impossible to mal:e headway against 
their fecundity (L. Preller, /(.ml. Msith., Berlin, 1SS3, ii. 150-19S ; 
Pliny, HX \\\\. 22). Tiberius Onicchus once caught a pair of 
snakes upon bis bed, and was advised by the soothsayers to 
kill one of them, but warned that his life was bound up with 
that of the one, and his wife's with that of the other. Itallier 
than put an end to his wife's life, he killed the male and him- 
self died in a short time (Plutarch, Tiherivs Gracchus). At 
the monastery of Saint Maurice, on the borders of Uurgundy, 
near the Rhone, was a fishpond stocked with as many Hsh as 
there were monks. When any of the monks fell sick, one of 
the ash floated on the surface of the water, half-dead ; and, if 
the monk was j»oing to die, the fish would die three days before 
him (J. W. Wolf, Xieiii-yt. Saijen, Leijizig, 1S43, p. 250, citing 
Leonard Vair, Trois Livrcs des channes, Paris, 15a3, p. JS7). 
On the island of Buru, one of the Moluccas, the same belief 
seems to be attached to the cayman. No Burunese, we are 
told, would dare kill a cayinaii, lest he should unwittingly 
cause the death of one of hi's nearest kinsmen (Wilken, iii. &2). 
In fact, the belief that the lives of human beings are bound up 
with those of certain of the loweranimals as well as of trees and 
plants is very wide.spread ; and the latter are not necessarily 
viewed as the guardians or incarnations of the souls of tlic 
former. 

Lakes a,nd streams also serve as life-tokens, inilii- 
pendently of the (ininials that haunt or iiilialiit 
them. 

On a mountain in Franconia a fountain issues near the 
ancestral home of an ancient noble fiimily. The clear stream 
gushes forth incessantly the whole year round; and it was 
believed to fail only wlien one of the family was about to die 
(J. Orimni, Dentsclie SfiKn, Berlin, 1816-18. i. 102). Tlie waters 
of the ci-ater-lake of Tritriva in Madagascar are of a deep green 
colour, almost black. It is believed that, when a member of the 
neighbouring tribe, the ZanaUsara, is taken ill, ii the water is 
troubled and becomes of a brown colour, his death is presaged ; 
if it remains clear, he will have a chance of life (RTP vii. [1892] 
7C0, quoting J. Sibrce). 

The present writer has elsewhere {LP ii. [1895] 
13 ft'.) pointed out tliat the custom of scrying or 
crystal-gazing {q.i'.) is intimately related to those 
of looking into the depths of a well or a pool of 
water or ink, and into a magical mirror, for the 
purpose of gaining tidings of absent friends or 
distant events. It will suffice to say here that 
the hallucination on which it is founded is equally 
capable of being produced by gazing intently on 
any dark a.nd polished surface like that of standing 
water, a mirror, or a |)iece of stone, and that the 
superstition is practically world-wide. 

The march between the life-token and the belief 
in omens drawn from oljjects not specially con- 
nected with any individual is ill-detined. It is by 
no means ncces.sary to a]»iKjint one's own life-token : 
the health or pros|)erity of the absent may be 
divined by the condition of a life-token aibitraiily 
aiipointeif by anxious relatives or friends at home. 
There is but a step lietween this and the drawing 
of auguries from events and objects not aiijiointed 
at all. The step is often taken both in tales and in 
real life. 

In an Icelandic tale three drops of blood appearing on the 
knife whili- eating are a token to one brother of another's peril 
or death (J i/i L.qvell, iii. lia()2] 6, citing Arn.ason). I'lie sudden 
lulling of three drojjs of blood from I he nose is recorded in 



recent years in countries as'wide apart as Scotland and Transyl- 
vania to be regarded as an omen of the death of a near relative 
(W. (iregor, Folklore of N. 11. o/ Scotlantl. London, 1881, p. 204 ; 
H. von Wlislooki, {'nlksiflaube ttnd Volksbratuih der .Siehen- 
Inlnjcr .Sachaen, Berlin, 1S93, p. 190). At Kauen, about 30 
miles from Frankfort.on.the-tlder, a cra«;k in a newly.baked 
loaf iiortends the ileath of one of the family (A. Knhn and W. 
Schwartz, Norddetilsche Saijen, Leipzig, 1S48, p. 430). Iti 
Thuringia, if an altar. light goes out, one of the clergy will die 
(Witzschel, ii. 254). In Brunswii-k, when a plant in the garden, 
usuallv green, puts forth white leaves, it betokens the speedy 
death of some one in the house (U. Andree, Rrnumchw. Volks- 
kuntle, Brunswick, IS'M, p. 224). The list of such omens might 
be continued indefinitely. 

Further, if my life be united to any external 
object, whether physically (so to speak), as in the 
case of an ailing child (lassed through a s[dit .sap- 
ling, or by tlie arbitrary a])ii()intment of myself or 
another, it is obvious that injuries intentionally 
inllicted on the object in nuestion will react upon 
me. The fellinf; of the sapling causes the death of 
the chihl. In the classic story of Meleager the 
hero's life came to an end with the burning and 
extinction of the fateful brand. This belief is the 
foundation of that department of magic which is 
used for injuring others by damaging or destroying 
things which have been closely attached to them, 
or to which identity with them is imputed. Frag- 
ments of the hair, nails, food, or clotliing, portions 
of the blood or saliva, and earth from the foot- 
prints of the victim are all impregnated with his 
life, ,are still a portion of himself, thougk detached ; 
and he may be injured or even tlone to death by 
the appropriate treatment of any of these objects. 
So also to stick pins or d.aggers into, or to burn, 
the eHigy of a man is to wound or kill the person 
represented. These are all well-known magical 
rites. Parallel with them is the treatment of such 
objects for the purpose of benefiting the person to 
whom they belong. 

The navel-string of an infant, taken by a mother to church 
at her churching, and laid tlown behind the altar or in some 
other suitable place, is deemed in Mecklenburg and Thuringia 
to be effectual :in surrounding the child with such holy intlu. 
ences that he will grow up Uod. fearing and pious (Witzschel, ii. 
249 ; Bartsch, ii. 45). For some such reason Athenian women 
who became pregnant for the first time hung up their girdles in 
the temple of Artemis. Probably for a similar purpose frag- 
ments of clothing and other things are hung by votaries on a 
sacred tree, and pins are deposited in sacred wells. To the 
same order of thought belongs the sympathetic treatment of 
wounds by means of the instrument inflicting thent This 
treatment, formerly accepted by physicians and pliilosophers, is 
now left in Europe to the peasantry. It originates in savagery. 
Tlie Lkungen or Song'ish of Vancouver Island are very careful 
to keep concealed the arrow that has wounded a friend, atid 
not to bring it near the fire ; for he would become very ill if the 
weapon, while still covered with his blood, were thrown into 
the tlame (F. Boas, Hep. Brit. Assoc, London, 1S90, p. 677). 
Melanesians keep the arrow, when extracted, in a damp place 
or in cool leaves, believinu" that the intlanunation will then be 
slight and will soon subside. But, it the enemy who has shot 
anotlier can get back his arrow, he puts it into the fire, with 
intent to irritate the wound and cause fatal results (U. H. 
Codrington, The Melanesians, Oxford, 1891, p. 310). Similar 
practices are very wide-s:>rcatl among the European peasantry, 
and not least in our own island. 

By a very natural extension of the idea of the 
life-token the cognate idea of the faith-token has 
been evolved. It is not enough for one of a pair of 
lovers to know that the other is living ; there must 
be constant assuraiu'e of the absent one's (idclily. 
The token of lidclity is, therefore, a common inci- 
dent both in talcs aiul in actual life. 

It Is well-known hi Imlia. In the Kathn-surit-sagara, or 
' Ocean of the Streams of Story,' a famous collection of Indian 
tales, the god Siva appears in a dream to (iiihasena and his wife 
Ilevasiniti when tliev are about to part, and gives each of tlieni 
a red lotus, saving : 'Take each of you one of these lotuses in 
your hand. .\nd, if either of you shall be unfaithful during your 
separation, the lotus in the hand of the other shall fade, but not 
otherwise.' When they awoke, each beheld in the other's hand 
a red lotus ; ' and it seemed if they had got one aHOther's hearts ' 
(C. II. TawMc\'s tr., Calcutta, ISSn. i. 86). In Kumpean folk, 
tales, ballads,' and romances the faith-token is by no means an 
unusual piece of machinery. It has found its way on to the 
stage. Among other dramas, the plot of P. Massinger's jilay of 
The Picture (ui'29) turns upon it. Nor is its vogue in practice 
less wide, 'riic >lcch are a Mnii'.rnloid tribe in Bengal. K\ery 
Mech has In the courtyard of his house a sij plant (Euphorbia 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Primitive) 



47 



Iiidica), which is carefully tended as the abode of Siva and the 
emblem of conjugal fidelity. If its leaves wither, something; is 
wrong: ^'ith one of the women of the household (II. H. Rislev, 
jf'C, Calcutta, 1892, ii. 89). In Peru the husband knotj3 a branch 
of Euphorbia before (roinj; on a journey. If on his return he 
fiuHs the knots withered up, his wife has been unfaithful ; if thev 
are fresh and hviiig, she has been true (ZK xxxvii. [1905] 4o9). 
At Siena formerly a niniden who wished to know how her love 
progressed kept and tended a plant of rue. ^\■^lile it flourished, 
all went well ; but, if it withered, it was a sign that the love 
she desired had failed her (Arehh-io, x. (1891J 30). Losing a 
garter in the street means, according to belief in some districts 
of England and Germany, that the owner's lover is unfaithful 
(Addy, p. 98 ; J. Grimm, Teut. Myth., tr. J. S. Stallvbrass, Lon- 
don, 1882-88, pp. 1782, 1824). Elsewhere, on the contrary, he is 
thinking of her (Andree, p. 215 ; cf. F. D. Bergen, Current Super- 
stitioits, Boston, 1896, p. 63). Certain sacred wells in France have 
or had the property of certifying the loved one's fidehty to a 
jealous lover. AU that was necessary was to abstract a pin (which 
was often nothing but a thorn) from her dress and lay it on the 
surface of the water. If it floated, all wa.s well ; if it sank to the 
bottom, she wa3 unfaithful (P. S6billot, Folklore de France, ii. 



(Paris, 1905) 252). In all such cases the faith-token exactly 
corresponds with the life-token. 

Literature. —Rene Basset, youvemix Contes lierMres, Paris, 
1897, gives in a note (pp. 309-316) an extensive list of stories in 
which the incident occurs. JIany of these are abstracted and 
discussed by F. J. Child, Bn;)li$h and Scottish Popidnr Ballads, 
5 vols., Boston, lK,S2-98, in the introductions to the ballads of 
nind Horn (i. 187), and Bonny Bee Hom (ii. 317), and by W. A. 
Clouston, rop»/«r Tales ajid Ficlwns, 2 vols., Edinburgh, 1S87, 
i. 169, and in his dissertation appended to John Lane's Continua- 
timi 0/ Chaucer's ' Squire's Tale ' (published by the Chaucer 
Society, London, 1888-90), 299, 334. Discussions will be found 
on the incident and its relation to custom and superstition by 
G. A. Wilken in his monographs on ' Het Animisme bij de 
volken van den Indischeti Archipel,' 'De betrekking tusschen 
nienschen-, dieren- en plantenleven naar het volksgdoof," and 
' De Simsonsage,' collected in his Verspreide Geschrijten, 4 vols.. 
The Hague, 1912, iii. ; and E. S. Hartland, The Legend of 
Perseus, 3 vols., London, 1894-96, ii. ch. viii. See also art. Life 
AND Deatu (Primitive), § 4. 

E. Sidney Hartland. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS. 



Primitive (.1. A. MacCulloch), p. 47. 
Chinese (J. Dver Ball), p. 51. 
Christian (A. .T. Maclean), p. 52. 
Greek and Roman (J. S. Reid), p. 56. 

LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Primitive).— 
Among the lo%ver races tlie nature and origin of 
liglit and darknes.s gave rise to many questions, 
and the answers to tliese are found in a great 
variety of myths. Frequently liglit and darkness 
are assumed to be substances — c.f/., 'a hard dark- 
ness,' as in an Australian mj'th ' — or the sun, often 
regarded as tlie cause of light, is l hought of as a tire 
or fiery substance, larger or smaller. Among the 
primitive peoples the dualism of light and darknc.=s 
or of beings representing tliese — so frequently found 
at higher stages of civilization — can hardly be said 
to exist. 

I. Primordial darkness. — A ivide-spread idea 
seems to be that night precedes or gives rise to day, 
darkness precedes or gives rise to light. Light, tlxe 
light of day, appears to come gradually out of the 
darkness of night, whereas darkness falls over the 
liglit of day and extinguishes it, but does not come 
from it. Man also, asleep and inert during dark- 
ness, rises to fresh activity with the light. A 
pre-existing state of darkness, out of which light 
and life liave proceeded, is thus usuallj' presup- 
posed. Many Australian tribes believe tliat long 
ago darkness or semi-darkness prevailed, until the 
sun was made or released. An emu's egg was 
thrown up to tlie sky, and either itself gave a great 
light or set fire to a wood-pile belonging to a sky- 
being. The latter sees how beautiful eartli now is, 
and therefore he makes a tire every day. There is 
little warmth In the morning, because it is not 
fully kindled, and it is cold at night when the fire 
dies out. The jackass rouses men to the light. If 
he did not, or if children imitated him, there would 
be nothing but darkness. Or the sun is created as 
the result of certain obscene rites performed by 
men who complained of having no heat or light ; 
or there is darkness until the magpie props up the 
sky and so sets free the sun.- The last-mentioned 
myth, that heaven and earth are close together, 
and that, until they are separated, their offspring 
are in perpetual and universal night, prevails over 
Oceania. The children, or gods, or a serpent, or 
trees force them apart and so let in light and air.^ 

1 Howitt, p. 426. 

2 K. L. Parker, More Aust. Legendam Tales, London, 1898, 
p. 28 ; N. W. Thomas, Natives of Aust.. do. 1906, p. 249 ; Howitt, 
p. 427; E. M. Curr, Aust. Race, Melbourne, 1886-87, ii. 48; T. 
Waitz and G. Gerland, Anihrop. der Naturcblker, vi. (Leipzig, 
1872] 197 ; E. Lasch, ARWm. (190O) 99. 

3 B. Thomson. Sarane Island, London, 1902, p. 81 ; G. Turner, 
Samoa, do. 1884, p. 2%f. ; P.. Taylor, Te Ika a Maul', do. 1870, 
p. 120; Waitz-Gerland, vi. 245 ; O. Grey, Polyrus. Myth., do., 
n.d., p. 1 ff. ; cf. Earth, § 3. 



Hindu (A. Hillkbeandt), p. 60. 
Iranian (L. H. Gray), p. 61. 
Semitic and Egyptian (W. C'RUICKSHANK), 
p. 62. 

Maori mythology relates that the Atua o te po, 
gods of Hades or darkness, existed before heaven 
was lifted up, and were more ancient than the 
Atua o te ra, gods of light, because darkness 
precedes light. Their chief was Hine nui te po, 
great mother night, or Hades. Light .and life are 
represented by Tama mir te ra, the great son of 
day. A creation epic describes the cosniogonic 
periods, the first of which is that of thought, the 
second that of night or darkness : 

* The word became fruitful ; 
It dwelt with the feeble glimmering ; 
It brought forth night. 
The great night, the long night. 
The loudest night, the loftiest night, 
The thick night, to be ft-lt. 
The night to be touched, the night unseen. 
The night following on. 
The night ending in death.' 

Then follows the third period, that of light, and 
the fourth, in which sun, moon, and stars are 
created, ' thrown up as the eyes of Heaven, then 
the heaven became light.' ' This idea that chaos 
and darkness — the state of Po, Hades, or night — 
precede all gods and all things is wide-spread in 
Polynesia. Even a heaven-god like Taaroa, creator 
of sun, moon, etc., .springs from it ;- or he sprang 
out of an egg and .so brought light to the world.' 

The Giiros say that earth was at first a huge 
watery plain, and darlaiess lay over all. Tatara- 
Rabuga created earth through a lesser spirit and, 
at the latter's request, placed sun and moon in the 
sky to give light.^ 

The myth of Heaven and Earth as a divine pair 
is common in W. Africa, but its most sig-nificant 
expression is found among the Vorubas, who say 
that Obutala and Odudua, tlieir chief god .and god- 
dess, \vere shut up in darkness in a calabash in the 
beginning. .She blamed him for this, whereupon 
he blinded her.^ 

Among the Eskimos, a people dwelling for a 
great part of the year in darkue.ss, many myths 
deal with this subject. According to one of those, 
men came out of the earth, lived in perpetual 
darkness, and knew no death. There came a flood 
which destroyed all but two oUI women, one of 
whom desired both light and deatli. Death came, 

1 Taylor, p. 100 ff. 

2 W. Ellis, Polynes. Researche.'^'!, London, 1832, i. 322 ; Wttiti- 
Gerland, vi. 240, 200 f . 

^ L. Frobenius, Die Weltanscfiauunff der Xalurrolker, p. 10. 
* A. Playfair, The Garos, London, 1909, p. 82 f. 
5 A. B. Ellis, Yurubaspeakimi Peoples, lx>ndon, 1894, p. 42 ; 
ARWjA. (1908) 402 f. ; Frobenius, pp. 350, 354, 359. 



48 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Primitive) 



and with it sun, moon, and stars.' Another wide- 
spread myth is tliiit of the brother who, in tlie 
time when darkness covered the earth, ravished 
liis sister. In her anger at his brutal couduet, 
slie pursued hiui to the sky with a Immd. He 
bei'Jime the moon and she tlie sun, ever pursuing 
the moon, except in winter, when she remains in 
her hou.'ie and there is darkness. The stars are 
sparks from tlie brand.' 

A well-known Chinese myth relates that in the 
beginning all was darkness. From a great mun- 
dane egg, wliicli divided in two, came I'oon-Koo 
Wong, who made the sky out of the upper and 
earth out of the lower half. He also made sun and 
moon.' Chinese philosophy speaks of T'ai-Kib, the 
' Most Ultimate,' which produced the cosmic souls 
Yang and Yin, male and female, heaven and earth, 
warmth and cold, light and darkness.' In Japan 
an old myth in the Kojiki speaks of a time w hen 
Heaven and Karth were not separated and the in 
and Yo (= Yin and Yang) not yet divided. All 
was chaos and presumably darkness." 

A Finnish cosmogonic myth in the Kalevala 
relates that from the upjier and lower parts of an 
egg which fell into the primeval waters were 
formed heaven and earth, from the yolk the sun, 
from the white the moon, and from the darkness 
in the egg the clouds." 

Scandinavian mythology contains an elaborate 
myth of beginnings. There was first a void world 
of mist, ginnunga-gap. On its sonthern extremity 
was muspdl, fire, on its northern, nifl, fog; from 
the one proceeded light and warmth, from the 
other darkness and cold. According to Grimm, 
ginnunga-gap is the equivalent of the Gr. x°-o^! 
meaning both 'abyss' and 'darkness.'* In the 
Edda, Day personified is the son of Night, each 
of them having a horse and car, in which they 
journey round the earth. The primitive method 
of counting time with Scandina\ians, Teutons, 
and Celts was on the principle that night preceded 
day, the moon, which ' governs the night,' being 
the measurer of time. Tacitus says of the Teutons 
that they count the number of nights, not of days, 
for the night seems to precede the day. Caesar 
writes of the Celts that they define the divisions of 
seasons not by days but by nights, and observe 
times in such an order that day follows night.' 
A Celtic myth embodying these ideas has not 
come down to us. 

2. Origin of light. — In some of the myths jnst 
cited the origin of light from darkness, or from the 
creation of sun and moon, is already found. As in 
the Maori myth, light is sometimes prior to the 
sun (cf. On 1^ '*). Some other examples of such 
myths may be cited. In Bushman belief the sun 
was a mortal on earth from ^hose body light 
radiated for a short distance round his house. 
Some children were sent to throw him up to the 
sky as he slept, and now he lightens the earth.'" 

' K. Rasmussen, People o/ the Polar North, London, 190S, 
p. 101. 

^Ib. p. 173; It RDBW [18941, PP- 260,481; II. Rink, Tales 
and Trad, of the Kskimo, London, 1S75, p. 237 ; c(. the idea ot 
the Ticunus that stars are emanations from the face of the 
supreme God. 

3 C(. HAl, Waahinston, 1907-10, i. 971 ; J. A. Farrer, Prim. 
Manners and Customg, Ixtndon, 1879, p. 244 ; K. R. Emerson, 
Indian Mi/lhs, do. 1884, p. 102 ; I RBfW [ISslJ, p. 23 ; 5 HBKW 
11887], p. 640 ; Frobenius, p. 30. 

* J. H. Gray, China, Tendon, 1878, i. 1 ; sec also CUWA, vol. 
iii. p. 5S1>>. 

» J. J. M. de Groot, Religion in China, New York, 1912, p. 9. 

• W. O. Aston, Shinto, London, 1905, p. 85. 
t KaUcata, rune 1. 

8 J. Grimm, Teut. Myth., tr. J. S. Stallybrass, London, 
1882-88. p. .158. 

« Ih. p. 735 ; Tac. GVrm. 11 ; Csesar, de Hell. Gall. vi. 18 ; c». 
Pliny, iiX xvi. 44, and see Cilrndar (Celtic) and Caliskdar 
(Teutonic). 

10 W. II. I. Blcek. Buahnan Folklore, London, 1911, pp. 
4*-o5. 



The E.ironga think that the retiexion of light on 
the sea after the sun's rising is a kind of source of 
light whence the sun is renewed daily. It is ' cut 
out from the provision of lire,' and dies in the 
West nightly. Light is also called ' that which 
makes to appear.'' An E. African myth tells 
how two men came to a cave, looked in, and saw 
the sun. One of them removed a stone, and was 
burned up. Then the sun ascended on high to 
light the world." According to the Ja-Luo, 
Apodtho, father of mankind, appeared from 
heaven on earth together with the sun, moon, and 
wind, which tied to the sky when he was angry, 
and have remained there ever since. The heaven- 
land has people as bright as fire, and men will go 
there when t liey die.' 

3. Succession of light and darkness, day and 
night. — In some instances light, not d.arkness, is 
primordial ; i^i after creation, while day exist.s, 
night is still unknown. Numerous myths relate 
how darkness is produced and the regular alter- 
nation of day and night follows. The Wiimbaio, 
an Australian tribe, say that at one time the sun 
never moved. Nurelli, tired of eternal day, bade 
it go down by the west.* In Banks Island, Qat, 
after making all things, did not know how to make 
night, and it was always day. He heard that 
there was night at Vava, and went there to get it 
from I Qong, Night. Ketuming with it, he bade 
his brothers prepare for night. The sun now moved 
westwards ; lie let go the night, and it was dark. 
After a time he cut it with a knife, and daylight 
again shone out. In Lepers' Island this is told of 
Tagaro.' The Meitheis say that at first there 
were two suns which rose and set alternately. A 
slave, tired of getting no rest, shot one of them. 
There was now always darkness. The other sun 
refused to come forth, but at last did so as a result 
of certain ceremonies.* The ^av,^ge Malays of 
Malacca have a myth of three suns, one of which 
was always left in the sky, The female sun was 
induced to swallow her husband and child, and 
now there was night." A native Brazilian myth 
tells that at first there was no night. Night, or a 
cobra who owned night, slept at the bottom of the 
waters. His daughter would not sleep with her 
husband till he procured darkness from her father. 
Servants were sent to bring a tucuman fruit fiom 
him. In spite of all w.arnings, they opened it, and 
all grew dark. The daughter now separated day 
from night.' In Santa Cruz sun and moon are 
said to have travelled together, but by a trick the 
sun caused the moon to fall into a marsh and went 
on before her. Night is the resslt of a part of 
the moon becoming black through this trick.' A 
Finnish myth says that in the beginning there 
was nothing but water and light — an unusual 
version of the cosmogonic idea.'" In some instances 
night is formed as the re.sult of a dualism. The 
Yezidis say that God made the world beautiful. 
Then Malik-Taus appeared before Him and said that 
there could be no light without darkness, no day 
without night, and accordingly He caused night to 
follow day." In a Wallaehian Mdrchen God sends 
a bee to inquire of the devil, the master of night, 

1 A. Junod, Life 0/ o S. African Tribe, Neuchatcl, 1913, 
p. 282. 

2 D. Macdonald, Africana, London, 1SS2, i. 2S0. 

3 C. W. Hobley, JA I \XKui. [1903] 328, .iM. 

4 Ilovritt, p. 42S ; cf. A. Lang, Slijth, Ritual, and Religion^, 
London, 1899, i. 124 f. 

5 R. H. Codrington, The .Melanesiaus, Oxford, 1S91, pp. 150, 
171. 

«T. C. Hodson, The ileiOieif, Ix>ndon. 1908, p. 125 (f. 

' W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blaifden, Pagan Races of the Malay 
Peninsula, London, 190«. ii. 3.SS. 

8 F. J. de Santa-Anna Nery, Folklore brisilien. Paris, 1888. 
p. 55 ; Couto de Magralh&es, Contet indient du Brisil, Rio de 
Janeiro. 1883. p. 1. 

» W. O'Ferrall, J A I xixiv. [19041 224. 

10 o. Dahnhardt, Xatursagtn, I. 69. " lb. p. 27. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Primitive) 



49 



whether there should be one sun or more. The 
bee rests on the devil's head and hears liis eogi- 
tations to the effect that, if there are several suns 
men will get so accustomed to heat that there will 
be no fear of hell ; night will be as clear as day • 
and the works of darkness will be brought to 
an end.' In Breton folk-belief God created the 
day, and the devil made night as an oflset to it.= 
llie same dualism is found in a Melanesian story 
in which all that Tagaro makes is good. Suqe 
who makes evil things, wished to have six nights 
to one day, but Tagaro sent him underground to 
rule the souls of the dead.^ An extremely naive 
Macedonian Marchen tells how all creation, grate- 
ful to the sun for his light and warmth, proposed 
to reward him with a wife. But the lion said that 
several suns would be bom and all would be burned 
up. All agreed that it was better for the .sun not 
to marry. In disgust he hid himself in the sea, 
and all became dark, to the consternation of the 
ajiimals. But the hen, persuading hitn that mar- 
nage was a disgrace, caused him to rise from the 
sea every morning.^ This myth obviously orioi- 
natesfrom the apparent disappearance of the sun 
into the sea at night, and his apparent rising from 
It in the morning. An Eskimo myth relates that 
sun and moon were once removed, causin" dark- 
ness which no shaman could dispel. A boy is 
sent by his aunt to go south, where he will find 
the light. He arrives at a hut where light like a 
ball of fire is lying, but it is hidden by a man 
shovelling snow, which causes obscurity. He steals 
the light and is pursued. He breaks oft pieces, 
each of which produces day, which is then followed 
by night. They are of unequal lengths because 
sometimes he travels a longer time without throw- 
ing out light, sometimes a shorter time.' This 
myth exactly reproduces the phenomena of the 
Arctic dark winter, and the phenomena of days 
and nights of varying lengths. 

4. Gods of light and darkness ; sun and moon. 
— JJay and night or their rulers or representatives 
sun and moon, are often personified as male and 
female, or as husband and wife, as in the Eskimo 
myths already cited (§ i). This is found in Ameri- 
can Indian mythology ; and in Australian belief, 
e.g. among the Arunta, tlie sun is female, the 
moon male.6 It is also found among the Andaman 
Islanders (the sun is the wife of the moon), the 
Indians of Guatemala, in Central Celebes, in 
Cnraana, among the Ewe and Yomba, in Tahiti 
among the Piutes, among the Ainus, and amon" 
the peasants of Oberpfalz.' In another American 
myth day and night are two wives who produce 
light and darkness by sitting alteraately at the 
door of their tent.* 

In New Britain sun and moon, to whom belonn- 
respectively day and night, are children of Ilu and 
Mamao, and, having gone up to the sky, have 
stayed there ever since." 

In aTongan myth Vatea and Tonga-iti quarrel 
about the parentage of the first-born of Papa, each 
claiming it as his own. The child is cut in two. 
Vatea throws one part up to the sky, where it 
becomes the sun ; Tonga-iti throws the other to 
the dark sky, whence the moon. This is explained 

\ t f jS-n'*l ^^'!i°^- ^'''■chen, Stuttgart. 1845, p. 283 f. 
, P- b'i.billot, Folk-lore de France, Paris, 1904-07; i. 135. 

B Y= Ji?Sl2",' P- '"3- * Dihnhardt, p. 130. 

I IS RBBW [ism], pt.l. p. iSi. 

7 I' 1P\7 !"?3)-,P- 174 ; Spencer-GiUen., p. 661. 
LeiD^ir ISR^; 4s ""}■ flf 2-83] 160; O. Stoll, (hmtcnmla, 
l.eipzig, 1885, p. 276; Lasch, ARW iii. 134, 107- Ellis Ewe 

r"lM"/ ^'t'-\ ^n^?"- '?"■ ?■ ««■ YoTKia-spcdking Peoples, 

p.^etr^""'"'' ^'"^' ""'■ *' '''"""'» nord-ouest, Paris, 1886, 
363 **■ ^'°^°- ■"'«'<"'«»'<"« and Poli/,iesians, London, 1910, p. 
VOL. Vlll.— 4 



as Day and Night alternately embracing Earth 
their joint ottspring being sun and moon.' 

In Nor.se mythology Night and Day are mother 
and son, set in the sky by All-Father, who gives 
each a horse and chariot to drive round the earth 
llie sun also has a chariot.'' 

In many of the myths just cited sun and moon 
are not always regarded as causing light and dark- 
ness, or rather day and night. These exist apart 
from them, though the two are associated to'-ether 
A clear connexion between them, however, is seen 
in another group of myths— those of the sun- 
catcher. In some of these the sun is tied down, 
as in a Toda instance, by a demi-god. There is 
at once darkness on the earth and in the under 
world whither the sun goes at night. The people 
of both implore the demi-god for the sun's release.^ 
More usually the sun is captured becau.se his course 
IS tar too rapid and darkness comes too soon— found 
in many Polynesian myths-or too erratic, as in a 
Ute myth." Sometimes, however, he is captured 
in order to lengthen the ordinary day, and this 
group IS then connected with magical rites which 
have also this for their purpose.* Again he is 
captured by some persons who wish" to amuse 
themselves, but it becomes so hot that the cap- 
tors run away.« The second group of myths is 
obviously suggested in answer to such a question 
as was raised by the Inca prince : Why cannot the 
sun wander freely about? Clearly because he 
obeys the yvUl of a superior being. This is an 
Idea found also in the mythologies of the higher 
culture. ° 



For further examples see ililttsine, ii. [1884-86] 666 : Lanir 
' {i'-n '■ l"A'»= ^- ^ ■Ty'"''' ^'"-'V Bist. if Man. 



Myth, Kit. and ....„- .. ^^, .. , 
kind-, London, 1870, p. 346ff.' 



Light and darkness, day and night, sun, moon 
and stars are often personified or worshipped as 
gods, or the sun, moon, and stars, as sources of 
Jiglit, are the dwellings of gods. Thus the Ainus 
believe in a spirit of light who lives in the sun or 
animates it {EBE i. 242"). Many African tribes 
iiave a high god, often the sky personified, and 
many of them worship the heavenly bodies as 
sources of light. Loba, the high god of the Bak- 
wiri, has a name signifying originally Heaven or 
hun, and so m many other instances.' Slian"-o of 
the Yoruba is the sun, dwelling in a flaming house 
ot brass ; one of his train is Biri, the darkness.' 
1 he Kavirondo worship the moon and the sun the 
latter regarded as apathetic, occasionally benefi- 
cent but usually malignant." Among the ancient 
leutons and Celts sun and moon were also divini- 
ties to whom a cult was paid.'" Amon" the Poly- 
nesians Ka-ne is the sunlight and Tangaloa is 
the lord of light, his brother being Kongo, god of 
dark and night." The Andaman Islanders connect 
Puluga, their high god, with the sky, where he set 
the sun and moon, who give light by his command 
and have their meals near his house. '= Among the 
Hottentots Tsuni-Goam, the red dawn, is opposed 
to the dark sky personified as Gaunah.'^ With the 



,oi„^' ^Yi"'"' ^J"*« «'"« Songs from t/ie S. Pacific, London, 
1876, p. 45. ' 

- Grimm, pp. 735, 737, 

! W- H. R. Rivers, T/ie Todas, London, 1906, p. 592. 
r, Vfi Turner, A ine(a-7i rears in Polynesia, London, 1861, 
p. 248 , Taylor, Te Ika a Maiiii. p. 100 (in this case Maui beats 
the sun and makes it lame); Gill, pp. 62, 70; Grey, Polynes. 
J/y(A., p. 24f. ; liifiBlr, p. 24. rr , , ., ,-.«. 

donaoiit^'iTa ■ '"'■ ^^^ ' "'- ^^^' P'- '■■ '^'" '^'""'^ ■^'^- 1''"'- 

6 E. Nordenskidld, IndianerUben, Leipzig, 1912, p. 294(Chan(S 
,QL^^''^°?o"^,io''o^-°'° ^"'^ '''"' '^'"'*- ^'alurvolker, Miinster, 

ibvl, pp. %A, 02, 80. 

a ?"!■ Z'"^''"^-^P<'akin<l Peoples, p. 46 1. ; Frobenius, p. 232 f 

" G. A. S. Northcote, JltAIxxwn. [19071 63 
I" Grimm, p. 704. 
" Gill, pp. 10-14 : Grey, p. Iff. 
'; E. II. Man, JAl xii. 160 f., 166. 
'^T. Hahn, Tsuni-Goam, London, 1881, pp. 124, 126. 



50 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Primitive) 



Fijians Ndauthina is god of liglit and lire, whose 
love of liglit in his infancy was so great that his 
mother bound lighted reeds to his head.' 

5. Regions of light and darkness.— As in the 
higher religions the bencliccnt or loftier gods are 
connecteil with light or dwell in the sky (ef. 1 Ti 
6", 'dwelling in the light which no man can ap- 
proach unto ), so it is also in savage belief. The 
Australian high gods, Bunjil, Mangun-ngaur, and 
Baiame, dw ell in the sky or in Keladi, ' eternal 
brightness,' and the Nurali of the Murray River 
tribes is an cnibodinient of light.' The higher 
Polynesian gods, Tangaroa, Tangaloa, Tii, etc., 
dwell in the liglit heavens, seven or ten in number.^ 
The Khonds reverence Buia Pennu, god of light, 
or Bella Poona, the snn-god, whose dwellings are 
the sun and the place where it rises. Puluga, the 
Andaman high god, lives in the sky. This is true 
also of many African gods; c.fj., the Zulus hold 
that the creator lives in heaven, and Nzanibi 
iMpungu of the Piort dwells behind the firma- 
mont.'' Similarly one of the names of the supreme 
being of the Indians of Guiana signities ' the 
Ancient One in Sky land.'" Many of the Teutonic 
gods, some of them gods of light, dwelt in the sky, 
where Valhalla was situated. 

' From the skv the Rods descend to earth, along the sky they 
make tlieir Journeys, and through the eky they survey unseen 
tlie doings of nien.'fi 

So also Elysium, the abode of the blest, whether 
it is in the sky or on or below the earth, is always 
a region of light and brightness. In contradistinc- 
tion to this, the abode of unhappy spirits in all 
mythologies is dark and gloomy, in this resembling 
the abode of the shades in religions where no dis- 
tinction had yet been made between good and bad 
spirits— the 15ab. Arallu, the Heb. Sh«6l, the Greek 
Hades (see the series of artt. on Blest, Abode of 

THE). 

The subterranean PueUko or Tartarus of the Caroline 
Islanders is cold and dark.' In Polynesia, as Po, or darkness, 
was the prim.il source of light and of the gods of liiihl, bo it is 
also conceived as the subterranean place of night whither 
departed spirits go." In Nanuuica the wicked go to a place of 
inud and darkness." The Japanese Yomi, or Hades, means 
'darkness,' and it is presided over by Susa-no-wo, a personilica- 
lion of the rain-storm, and a moon god, ruling also the darkness 
of night.i" The Scandinavian NiHliel is a place of darkness 
surrounded by logs and gloom (see Blkst, Abode of tub 
[Teutonic]). 

6. Evil powers and darkness.— Evil gods, gods 
of death, etc., are often associated with darkness, 
or divinities who are not evil have often acquired 
a sinister aspect in so far as they are associated 
with the night or even with the moon, the ruler of 
the night. The Sakai believe that the lord of hell, 
a cavern in the interior of the earth, is a friend of 
darkness and cannot bear the light." In Polynesia 
Kongo, brother of Tangaroa, is god of darkness 
and night ; Iline-nui-te-po, the great mother night, 
into which all must fall, is a per.-ionihcation of night 
and death." Some Australian divinities to whom 
evil powers are ascribed are connected with dark- 
ness and night." The Japanese Susa-no-wo, already 
referred to, is another instance. Much more gener- 
iilly all evil spirits, demons, ghosts, and the like 
are associ.ited with darkness, which men's fears 
jieopled with them." 
1 B. Tliomsnn, Thr Fijiaim, I/Ondon, 1908, p. 113. 
iJAI \n. (1886) :n3, xiii. 11884] in;l; R. Brough Smyth, /l(;or. 
of Victoria, Melbourne, 1878, i. 4'23. 

■ SGill, pp. 4, 13; Ellis, 1. 114, 325; Waitz-Oerland, vi. 2401., 
299. 

4'h. Callaway, Bet. Syatcin of the Ama:iUu, Natal, 18T0, 
p. 49 f. ; A. I>ang, Making of Itetiiiion-, London, 1900, )). 228. 

»E. F. ini Thurn, Amowj the Indians of Oiiiana, London, 
1883. p. 3(;.i. 
" Orimni, p. 698. 

' F. W. Christian, Caroliiw Inlands, Ix)ndon, 1899, p. 76. 
S Ellis, i. 390 : WttiU-ncrland, vi. 2«T f. 
» Turner, Sanwa, p. 292. '" Aston, pp. 63, 137 1. 

n Skeat-Blagden, ii. 280. 

12 nill, pp. 4, 10 11 ; Taylor, p. \M ; F.lhs. i. 323 f. 
u VVailz.O«rland, vi. 8U0 I. " See £UK iv. 023.'. 



In S.E. Guinea evil spirits calk-d wtrabana inhabit_ dark 
places and wander about at night ; and in New Britain Kaia, a 
spirit causing disease, earthtjuake, eU'., lives in craters and dark 
places.' The Tasnianians thought that lower spirits concealed 
tJiemselves in dark raxincs by day and cjxme forth at night to do 
harm. 2 The Australians also peopled the darkness with a 
variety of horrible beings ready to p lunce upon men.-'' In- 
numerable other examples from sa\age belief might be cited. 
Similarly, among the Celts and Teutons a variety of demoniac 
and supernatural beings were associated with the darkness, 
and in folk-superstition generally fairies, witches, demons, wer. 
wolves, vampires, and ghosts are most powerful in the hours of 
darkness, especially 'at the lone midnight hour when bad 
spirits have power.'* Sec artt. Demons amu SrmiTS, Fairt, 

LTOANIimOPV, Va.MI'IRB. 

Among savages, as also among higher races, 
there is a wide-spread fear of the darkness. Many 
savages will not travel or even leave their huts or 
camp at night; or, if they do so, they must be 
armed with firelnands and the like to kecj) evil 
spirits at a distance, since these fear the light. 
Thus we find magical rites to overcome the 
terror of darkness; e.q., in New Caledonia the 
priest, when cutting tlie umbilical cord of a boy, 
had a vessel cf water before him, dyed black as 
ink, in order that when the child grew up he might 
not fear to go anywhere on a dark night." For 
similar reasons an eclipse of the sun or the moon is 
univcrisally feared. Generally a monster is sup- 
posed to be destroying these bodies, and, since they 
are so often regariled as the sources of light, it is 
feared that their destruction would mean a return 
to the primordial darkness. Every precaution is 
therehne taken to .scare ofithe destroying monster 
or to bring to an end whatever other mythical 
cause is attributed to an eclipse.* In connexion 
with the belief that evil spirits have power in the 
dark must be noted the wide-spread idea that their 
power ceases at dawn, or that, if they are surprised 
by daylight, they are destroyed. This applies to 
all evi'l beings, demons, witches, fairies, etc. See 
art. Fairy. 

7. Dualism of light and darkness.— The contrary 
nature of light and darkne.ss, the qualities instinc- 
tively associated with each— life with light,' death 
and terror with darkness— might easily suggest to 
primitive minds a species of natural dualism. The 
day seems to be swallowed up by night, again to 
appear and drive it away ; at an eclipse sun or 
moon is wholly or partially concealed by darkness, 
ligured as a beast or demon, but again emerges 
victorious. Hence in some instances on the lower 
levels of culture light, or day, and darkness, or 
night, may be personified and regarded as in con- 
flict. That this was the case is obvious from such 
a dualistic system as the Parsi, which is funda- 
mentally concerned with an older natural dualism 
of light and darkness, giving rise to a moral dual- 
ism of gooil and evil. The .same dualism is found 
sporadically in other higher religions, and in faiths 
in whiih the inllueiice of Parsiism was felt,^ also 
perhaps in such a dualism as e,\ists in the relijj'ion 
of the Buriats (q.v.). On the other hand, since 
light, day, sun, seem to rise out of night, they are 
perhaps more often regarded as produced by dark- 
ness rathi'r than hostile to it, as in Polynesian 
mythology and elsewhere (§ I). It is also probable 
that modern inquirers into savage myths have too 
readily assumed that mythical personages repre- 
sented, on the one hand, light, sun, or dawn, and, 
on the other, darkness and night, and that myths 
of a contest, between a hero and a demoniac Iwing 
necessarily meant a contest between light and dark- 

1 lirown, ilHamiians and Poli/nrsians, m.. "^l<^'- 

2 A Ling Koth, Alnii: of Tasmania, I<ondon, 1809, p. m. 

8 w'aitz-Oerland, vi. 801 ; Brough Smyth, 1. 467 ; Spencer- 
Oillenb, 490. ,„ , I 

* Sir W. Scott, Em of St. John, verse 24. 
r- Turner. Samoa, p. 341. „ 

» Ijisch, AJt IF iii. 97-I.'.2 ; als» art. PKoniolES asb Poktkst" 
7 VI. P. Ciran, Mai/ie et ret. annamite, Pans, 1912, 

p. usi 

"See Diihnhardl, pp. '27 9., 48. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Chinese) 



61 



ness. While it is possible that certain American 
mytlis adumbrate such a contest, it is likely that, 
on arbitrary philological grounds, such an inter- 
pretation has been too easily applied to them.' 
One aspect of such a mythic strife may be seen 
in the beings associated with light and darkness 
rather than in these themselves personified. Thus 
the demoniac beings who have power in the dark- 
ness are generally powerless and are not feared by 
day (§ 6), or those connected with gloom and 
darkness are often regarded as opposite in nature 
or opposed to divinities or spirits of light — 
e.tj., gods residing in the heavens. In primitive 
religion decisive examples of a conflict between 
light and darkness are few in number, but the 
mythic method is seen in the words of a Basuto 
wiio described nature as given up to perpetual 
strife — the wind chasing the clouds, darkness pur- 
suing night, winter summer, etc.- If, as has been 
supposed, the Polynesian Maui is the sun (though, 
as has been seen, Maui captures the sun), then the 
story of how he intended to pass through the body 
of Hine-nui-te-po, but was unsuccessful and died, 
and so brought death into the world, might be a 
myth of the sun or light being swallowed up by 
darkness.^ In Khond belief the supreme creator, 
Bura I'ennu, the light- or sun-god, is opposed, not 
by darkness, but by Tari Pennu, the earth-goddess, 
the bringer of disease, death, and other evils.'' 
Japanese mythology preserves a story of the retire- 
ment of the sun-goddess to the rock caveof heaven, 
leaving the world to darkness, because of the mis- 
conduct of her brother Susa-no-wo, the storm-god 
and later ruler of Yomi (the dark Hades). The 
gods dance in front of the cave, and she comes out 
to see them and is prevented from re-entering. 
Jjight is thus restored to the world. Tliis suggests 
a myth of the strife between light and darkness. 
Later Shinto theologians allegorize the goddess's 
retirement as emblematic of the darkness of sin, 
and the renewal of light as signifying repentance.'' 
Grimm has suggested that many phrases in Teu- 
tonic languages used of light and darkness, day 
and night, show the one as a hostile, evil power in 
contrast to the kindly character of the other, and 
that there is perennial strife between tha two.' 

LiTKRATURE.— O. Dahnhardt, Natursafft:ii, i. '.S.a;;cn zuin 
.\lten Test.,' Leipzig and Beriiu, 1907 ; L. Frobenius, Vie Welt- 
an:ichatiung der Saturvolke^\ Weiin.ir, ISEtS ; R. Lasch, ' l>ie 
Finsteriiisse in der Mvth. und im rel. Branch der Volker,' ^ A' IV 
iii. (19001 97-162 ; Mehtsiiw, ii. (Paris, 1SS4-85] 664 fl. ; E. B. 
Tylor, PC^, London, Iti'Jl, passim. 

J. A. MacCulloch. 

LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Chinese).— The 
Chinese outlook on life and attitude towards re- 
ligion give more prominence to light than to 
darkness. 

The two principles which pervade all nature and 
to wldch everything is assigned — the yin and ynng 
principles, the duali-stic elements of Chinese philo- 
sophy — are also the two headings into which light 
and darkness are diti'erentiateil. Yin, it may be 
said, is darkness, and ya)ig light. The latter 
stands for the upper world of light ; the former for 
the nether Avorld of gloom and semi-darkness. 

It is difficult to classify as gods of darkness any 
of the gods of the Chinese, unless Yama (Yen-ma, 
Yen-lo), the ruler of Hades, with his entourage of 
officials and demons, be considered as such. The 
light of the sun is wanting in the Chinese nether 

1 For these mvttvs see D. G. Brinton, Mi/ths of the New World, 
PhiLidelphia, 1896, p. 198 flf. ; Tylor, PCn, ii. 290 ff. For 
Bonie arjj'nments a<fainst these views see A. Langf, Nineteenth 
Cent. xis. (1886) 50-65, and Cvstmii and Myth", London, 189J, 
p. 197 tf. (atfainst Hahn's theory of a contest of lij^lit and darli- 
ness in Hottentot mythology). 

2 E, Casalis, Lcs Bassuutos, Paris, 1869, p. 253. 

» Grey, Pulpnes. Myth., p. 38 f. ; Waitz-Gerland, % i. 201, 207. 
4 S. 0. MacPheijon, ileinorials of Service in Indta, Loudon, 
1865, II. 8!, 
^ Aston, p. 100 f. 6 Grimm, p. 76:2. 



world ; it is a land of shades and of the shadow of 
death, for a twilight gloom prevails. The idea of 
hells in Taoism was derived from ISuddliism ; but 
the conception was developed on ditl'erent lines. 
Utter darkness reigns in eight hells out of the 
millions of various abodes of punishment in the 
future world of Chinese Buddhism.' 

In the primitive religion of the ancient Chinese 
nature - worship was prominently apparent, and 
remnants of this are still found : in tlie erstwhile 
Forbidden City, or Inner City, of Peking there is a 
splendid altar to Light. The sun, according to the 
Chinese, is the source of all brightness, and the mas- 
culine principle in nature is embodied in it, while the 
moon is considered to be the essence of the female 
principle. The philosopher Chu Hsi said : 

' In the beginning heaven and earth were just the light and 
dark air. . . . The subtle portion of the air . . . became heaven 
and the sun, moon, and stars. . . . Light and darliness have 
no beginning.' 2 

The 'visible darkness' that engulfs the sun and 
moon at an eclipse is supposed popularly to be the 
ellect of a monster swallowing them. Mandarins 
under the old regime offered worship as an official 
duty during an eclipse, soldiers fired muskets, and 
jiriests clanged cymbals and chanted prayers to 
the sun and moon. While all this was going on, 
the populace tired crackers and clashed jiots and 
pans to frighten the monster away." 

There is an altar to the sun to the east ef the 
Tatar City of I'eking. That to the moon is outside 
the west wall.'' 

In that ancient Chinese classic, the Yi Kinrj, or 
Book of Changes, one of the trigrams is an emblem 
of light or brightness.* Light and brightness are 
the symbols of, or attributes applied to, goodness 
and virtue.'' The rising of the brightest object in 
the sky is suggestive of advancing, and Hft Ping- 
wan of the Yuan dynasty (A.D. 1280-1367) thus 
applies it : 

' of bright things there is none so bright as the sun, and 
after its pattern he (the superior man] makes himself bright.' 7 

These instances show that the Chinese early 
seized on the striking symbolism of light and dark- 
ness to represent a mental or moral condition as 
well as a physical one ; and this expressive lan- 
guage has continued in use. It appears now and 
again in the TAo Teh Ching : 

' We should attemper our briglitness, and bring ourselves 
into agreement with the obscurity of others.'** 'Use the light 
that is within you to revert to your natural clearness of sight. '« 

There is the goddess of lightning, worslnpped by 
both Buddhists and Taoists, who, according to the 
popular mythology, was appointed to accompany 
the god of thunder on his expeditions to prevent 
his making a mistake, for on one occa.sion, hnding 
the white rind of a melon flung away, in the 
darkness of a smoke-begrimed Chinese kitchen, he 
mistook it for rice and killed with his chisel and 
hammer the supposed '\\aster of good food. To 
[ireveut tlie recurrence of stich an event the goddess 
carries a mirror in each hand, or one in her two 
hands, and Hashes light on objsjcts before the god 
strikes. This is the explanation of ' the lightning's 
tiery wing.' 

The god of fire is another of the gods connected 
with liglit. His name, Hwa ICwang, may be 
rendered ' Beautiful Light.' Unlike the majority 
of the popvilar gods, he was not originally a human 

1 E. J. Eitel, Handbook o/ Chinese Buddhism^ London, 1S8S, 
p. 10511. 

~T. McClatfliie, Confucian Cosirw'jony, p. 53 ff., quoted 
in S. Wells Williams, Middle Kingdom, revised ed., London, 
18S3, ii. 141. 

3 Sec H. C. Dn Bose, The Dragon, Image, and. Demon, 
London, 1880, p. 71. 

4 See llrs. A. little. Guide to Peking, Tientsin, 1904, p. 33 fl. ; 
of. Ezk 81«. 

■1 J. Legge, I't King, SBE xvi. [1882] 136, note. 
6 lb. p. 310. ' lb. p. 311, note. 

« J. Legge. Texts of Taoism, SBE xxxix. 11S911 60. 
» H. A. Giles, Chuang TzH, London, 1889, p. 19; see TOo Teh 
Ching, cb. Ui. 



sa 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Christian) 



being, but a lamp, of which tlie snullings of the 
wick were turned into a man by the recital of a 
charm. He is the form and soul of lire.' IJotli 
Buddhists ami Taoists claim him. 

The Buddhists deify li^'ht by personification 
in the bodhisattva Marichi Deva. Tlie Chinese 
represent her with eight arms. In two of her 
hands she holds up emblems of (lie sun and moon. 
She is tlie goddess of light, and protects nations 
from war. Among her other titles is that of 
Queen of Heaven. The Taoists abso claim her as 
one of their deities, and fix her residence in a star 
in the constellation of Sagittarius.^ 

Buddha after Buddha, commencing with Sakya- 
muni Buddha, has light as one of his attributes, 
or some manifestation of light appears in the 
course of his life in connexion with him. Five- 
coloured lights flashed at his birth, and flame burst 
from his dead body.' Every Buddha has, among 
his characteristics, a circle of hairs between his 
eyebrows by which he can illuminate the universes.'' 

'Light' and 'Brightness' often appear in the 
names given to difl'erent Buddhas, as well as occa- 
sionally to others, and to different objects. Among 
these names of Buddhas, present or to come, sup- 
posed to .be real or fictitious, are such as ' Bright- 
ness of the Law,' ' One whose feet display myriads 
of Luminous Fij^vires,' 'The Buddha of Fixed 
Light,' 'Light and liriglit,' 'The Bright Effulgence 
of Sun and Moon,' 'The Clear and Bright Efficacy 
of Sun and Moon.' The 930th Buddha of the 
present kalpa is called ' The Buddha of Wonderful 
Light.' Some twenty billions of Buddhas have 
the title of ' Cloud Sovereign Illuminating King.' 
Five hundred arhats will reappear as Buddhas 
with the name of 'Wide-spreading Brightness.'' 
Some of the demons in which Buddliism believes 
shed a glare of light." A realm mentioned in 
Buddhism is ' The Realm of Great Light.' ' One of 
the sixteen (or eighteen in Northern Buddhism) 
celestial worlds is that of ' Liglit and Sound,'* and 
another is that of ' Unlimited light.' ^ Jiuddbism 
has five ' Luminous Treatises.' '" A fictitious de- 
gree of samadhi is also called ' Pure Light and 
Brightness,' and another 'Pure Light.''' 

In Northern Buddhism the ' Buddha of Bound- 
less Light,' ditt'using great light, Amita (Amitabha), 
originated in the ideal of boundless ligiit, and was 
thought of at first as impersonal. He is tlie most 
popular of all the Buddhas among the Chinese 
people. In his heaven, the wonderful and glorious 
Paradise of the West, two Buddhas ' radiate light 
over three tliousand great worlds.' '^ AmitaBuddha 
himself, in the words of tlie Chinese poem singing 
his praises, has a 

'. . . halo of light that encircles his head, 

The sun at noondaj- is U-ss glorious than he.'!** 
As to those who enter that heaven, 

' The material body of men while on earth 
Is exch.ingt'cl for another ethereal and bright, 
That is seen from afar to be glowing with light.' '^ 

This new mystical school makes use of the sym- 

^ See Dyer Ball, 'Scraps from Chinese Mythology,' in Cltinn 
Rc.eirw, Hongkong, 1872-1001, xii. ISSff., 32411., 402 ff. 
- EitL'I, Uandhook, p. 97 f. 
3 lb. pp. l:i6", ISSb. •< lb. p. 188''. 

5 lb. pp. SSb (1st ed. : the 2nd ed., 55^, does not translate the 
Chinese), 49», 129', SOh, 6.'i>', 173>' (the 1st ed. [1870] gives 'The 
Bright Effulgence,' etc., as translation of the Chinese ; the 2nd 
ed. gives only the Chinese), p. 17;{i' (the same difference bet^ve('ll 
the two editions). Also see pp. 129«, MOI), 116' (1st ed., 141" in 2nd 
ed.), IG-Sb (here again the Chinese is not translated in the 2nd ed.). 

6 lb. p. 1721' f. of 1st ed., 200" of 2nd (the 1st ed. is here fuller). 
' Ih. p. 170'' of 1st od., 2U4'' of 2nd (here again the Chinese is 

not translated in 2nd ed.). 

» //'. p. 1». « lb. p. IB''. 

1" lb. p. 44'' of Ist ed., where the term is translated ; it is not 
tr.inslated in the 2nd ed., p. 03''. 

n lb. p. 200''. 

1- J. IMkins, Chinese iluddhisui^, London, 1893, p. 234. 

» lb. p. 178. » lb. 



holism of light in its description of religious states 
of its devotees.' In some cases light plays an im- 
portant part in the advent to earth of a god on his 
incarnation, and even one of the mytliical emperors 
of China, the Yellow Emperor (2698 B.C.), owed his 
origin to this. 

With the Taoist gods, a ray of liglit shoots 
down arrow-like from heaven to the future mother 
shortly to be delivered of a child, and thus the 
divine is blended with the human in the infant, 
who has sometimes to expiate .some .sin from which 
his godlike nature has not saved him, or to cure 
or to eradicate some infirmity still inherent in his 
moral nature. 

We find a brilliant light in connexion with the 
ju-eparations for the birth of the Taoist Gemmeous 
Sovereign, the Supreme Ruler, and in his later 
incarnations a golden light or a glimmering light ^ 
descends. Somewhat similar experiences occurred 
when the Taoist Aged Sire united with light, and 
became dust and was born on earth.' A Taoist 
>vriter of the Yuan dynasty says that light broke 
forth spontaneously in the primordial void, spring- 
ing from itself in the heart of the void, and his 
idea would appear to be that to attain illumination 
one must empty oneself as the primordial void of 
which he speaks was enipty.^ 

The word ' Light ' is used as one of the Chinese clan- 
names or surnames, as it is in English, but it also 
appears sometimes as an individual name bestowed 
on an infant, and occasionally in union with some 
other character in a name selected later in life. 

LiTBRATURE. — This is sufficiently cited in the footnotes. 

J. Dyek Ball. 

LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Christian).— The 
.symbolical use of the words ' light ' and ' darkness ' 
is very common in early Christian literature, and in 
the main was derived from the OT, as will be seen 
by the references given below. As time went on, 
the metaphor of light served as one metliod of ex- 
pre.--sing the theological conception of the Persons 
of the Holy Trinity. 

I. The symbolism in the NT. — We may pass by 
the obvious metaphor by which to speak or act 
' in the light ' is to do so ' openly,' and to speak or 
act 'in the darkness' is to do so 'secretly,' as in 
Mt 10", Lk \-T (cf. Jn 18», and Eph 3^ i Co 4=). 
More to our purpose are the numerous passages 
where ' light' denotes knowledge, truth, and holi- 
ness, and ' darkness ' denotes ignorance and sin — 
ignorance in all its phases being included in the 
latter simile : absence of knowledge, spiritual 
blindness, error, and wickedness ; for blindness, if 
wilful, becomes sin. The opposition between light 
and darkness is expressed in Jn 3""- ; men had 
the opportunity, for light is come into the world, 
but they loved the darkness rather than the light, 
for their works were evil — 'everyone that doeth 
ill hateth the light.' 'Darkness' expresses the 
state of the world before the Incarnation (Jn 1", Lk 
1'") ; the idea is taken from Is 9", where it is said 
that ' tlie people that walked in darkness have 
seen a great light.' To be in a state of sin and 
ignorance is to walk, or sit, or be in darkness 
(1 Jn P- « 2'', Jn 8'=, 1 Til 5"-, Ro 2", Lk 1™). In 
Jn 8'- the ' light of life ' is tlie light ' which both 
S[)iings from life and issues in life ' (B. F. Westcott, 
Gospel accordinq to St. John, London, 190.S, in loc). 
The metaphor is very common in the Johannine 
writings, but it is frequentlj' found elsewhere. In 
Mt 6^"- the 'body full of light' (^uT-eo-w) denotes 
purity .and lioline.ss, and the ' body full of darkness' 
{dKuravd^) denotes evil ; so l,k IP"- (cf. Pr 14'8). 

' .See T. Riihards, Tlir Nrw Test, of Higher Buildhism, Edin- 
burgli, 1010, pp. K,, 149. l.ll, etc. 

" 1 her Ball. ' Scraps from Chinese Mythology,* in China Review, 
\\. 72lt., •207, 213, 282, 287. 

J lb. p. 86 f . 

8 aee L. Wieger, Le Canon taoUte, Paris, 1911, i. 65, do. 240. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Christian) 



63 



In Ac i6'- the preaching of the gospel is to turn 
the peujile troui darkness to light :ind from the 
power of Satan unto God. St. Paul uses the 
inetaplior freely. The ' works of darkness' are the 
evil deeds of the present ' night,' and the ' armour 
of light' is to be put on in view of tlie approach of 
the day (Ro 13'-; of. Eiih 5"; for 'night' and 
'day' in this connexion see 1 Th 5"-'). We are 
partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light, 
and have been delivered out of the power of dark- 
ness (Col V-'-). The fruit of the light is in all 
goodness, righteousness, and truth (Eph 5' KV). 
Light has no communion with darkness, and there- 
fore Christians are not to be unequally yoked with 
unbelievers (2 Co 6'*, quoted in Apost. Const, viii. 
34, to forbid Christians to pray with heretics). So 
St. Paul uses the verb ' to darken ' [itkotI^oi or 
aKordu) in Ito 1-' 11'° and Eph 4'* metaphorically of 
the hardening of the heart or the blinding of the 
eyes by ignorance, just as he u.ses 'to enlighten' 
(0wrij'w) in a metaphorical sense in Eph 1" (cf. .Jn 
1' ; see below, § 4). St. Peter speaks of our being 
called out of darkne.ss into Cod's marvellous liglit 
(1 P 2'). The curious passage 2 P 1'", where pro- 
phecy is as 'a lamp shining in a squalid {avxix-npii) 
place,' may be compared with Mic 3*, where ' dark- 
ness ' is used of want of spiritual perception in a 
prophet.' 

The name ' Light ' is given to God. Not only is 
light a gift of Cod, but Cod is by nature 'light' 
(1 Jn P 0uJ! anarthrous) ; therelore He can be 
known by His creatures, and is all-holy, for in Him 
is no darkness at all. This goes much further than 
Is 10", where God is called ' the light of Israel,' or 
Ja 1", where He is called the 'Father of liglits' 
(twv 01^7011' = the heavenly bodies [?]). 

This divine attribute is claimed by or ascribed 
to our Lord in Jn S'' (' I am the liiiht of the world ') 
95 1.2=0. i6_ Lk 2S-, .yt 4'« (from Is 9-). St. John 
says that in the Word was life, and the life was 
the light of men, ginning in the. darkness ; He was 
' the true light which lighteth eveiy man, coming 
into the world,' i.e. by His Incarnation (but see 
Westeott's note), in contrast to the Baptist, who 
was but a witness of the light (Jn 1^"). Because 
He is the light. He will shine (kiricfiavaei.) on the 
awakened sleeper (Epli S'*). He is to be a liglit to 
all men (Ac 13", quoting Is 49' [the reference is 
to Jesus, not to St. Paul, though the Apostle 
identities his mission with that of his Master] ; cf. 
Is 42*, where the Servant of Jahweh is to be a light 
of the Gentiles — a jihrase repeated of the ' Son of 
Man ' in Ethiopic Enoc/i, xlviii. 4 [1st cent. B.C. '']). 
The phrase 'dwelling in light unapproachable' 
(1 Tie'*) might be applied to the Son (so Chrys- 
ostom, Horn, xviii. in 1 Tim., in loc.) or to the 
Father, but probably it refers to the Father (cf. Ps 
104^, Dn 2-"-). See also § 3, below. 

In an inferior sense the servants of the Incarnate 
are 'lights.' The Baptist (see above) is 'a lamp 
that burnetii and shineth,' in whose light the 
disciples were willing to rejoice for a season (Jn 
5^). All Christians are the light of the world (Mt 
5'* 0(St, cf . Ph 2" ipuaTTipei), and are sons or children 
of light (Lk 16', Jn 12*', 1 Th 5^ Eph 5* [' once 
darkness . . . now light in the Lord ']). The 
angels are .angels of light (2 Co 11'^ ; we may com- 
pare the light which shone when the angel re- 
leased St. Peter, Ac 12'). In contrast to this, the 
devil and his angels are ' world-rulers of this dark- 
ness' (Eph 6'-), i.e., as the Peshitta paraphrases, 

1 The metaphor from the contrast between the dimness of a 
reflected lij^ht and the clearness of an open vision, a metaphor 
which was more obvious, no doubt, in the days of unscientilic 
reflectors than it is now, is used by St. Paul in 1 Co 1312, where 
he describes our partial kuouied^'e in the present world as 
seeini,' 'in a mirror* instead of 'face to face'; but the words 
which we translate 'darkly '(lit. 'in a riddle') do not carry on 
the simile. 



'rulers of the world of this darkness' (meaning 
' of this dark world '), and their realm is the ' outer 
darkness ' mentioned in Mt 8'^ (for Jewish parallels 
see \y. C. Allen's note In loc, ICC [n91'2]) 22" 25=" ; 
this is the place of punishment of sinners, and we 
may compare Jude°, where the fallen angels are 
said to be ' kept in everlasting bonds under dark- 
ness {'{iipov) unto the judgement of the great day,' 
and 2 P 2", where the ' blackness of the darkness' 
(6 i6<t>oi ToD crxoTous) is said to have been kept for 
evil men. The same idea of punishment is found 
in Eth. Enoch, Ixiii. 6, where the wicked say : 
' Light has vanished from before us, and darkness is 
our dwelling-place for ever and ever ' ; on the other 
hand, God will for the elect 'transform the heaven 
and make it an eternal blessing and light' (xlv. 4). 

2. The same symbolism in the Fathers.— The 
symbolism of light and darkness is not so common 
in Patristic writings as in the NT, but a few ex- 
amples may be given from the first four or live 
centuries. At the close of the Apostolic period the 
Epistle of Barnabas (§§ 18-20) describes the two 
ways, of light and darkness, i.e. of good and evil 
(cf. Dt 30''') ; over the former are stationed the 
light-giving ((^1^0701700 angels of God, over the 
latter the angels of Satan. In the 3rd cent. 
Origen calls Celsns's arguments darkness, the 
truth light (c. Cels. vi. 67). Lecturing A.D. 348, 
Cyril of Jerusalem says {Cat. vi. 9) that the Father 
is eternal light, beaming inexhaustibly. The 
metaphor is found in the Ancient Church Orders 
— e.g. , in the Egyptian ( Coptic) Church Order (§ 62), 
the Verona Fragments of the Didascalia, etc. (ed. 
E. Hauler, Leipzig, 1900, p. 119), and the Testament 
of our Lord, ii. '24: 'The F'ather hath sent His 
Word [and Wisdom] to enlighten the saints.' In 
the last-mentioned work (Eng. tr., J. Cooper and 
A. J. Maclean, Edinburgli, 1902) tlie symbolism is 
very common, both in the apocalyptic prologue 
(where it probably comes from an original apo- 
calypse, perhaps of the 2nd cent. ; see JThSt xiv. 
[1913] 601-604) and in the Church Order proper. 
Christians are children of light (i. pref., 1, 3, 12, 
37). In the liturgy of this work (i. 23) God is 
called ' the Father of lights ' (Ja 1"), ' King of the 
treasuries of light,' ' Illuminator of the perfect,' 
' Giver of light eternal.' Elsewhere in the book He 
is called ' Giver or Maker of light ' (i. 26, 43), ' God 
of the lights . . . Whose veil is the light ' (ii. 7). 
Our Lord is ' Begetter of light . . . Guardian of 
light eternal,' who has 'shed light on the darkness 
within us' (i. 26). Jesus is the name of light (ii. 
'27). The illumination of the heart is frequently 
referred to (i. 15, 21, 23, 31, 3'2, 38, ii. 5, 7, 9). 
Somewhat more sparingly the simile is used in the 
Apostolic Constitutions. Christians are 'children 
of light' (i. 2, ii. 32, 46, 54), as in the parallel 
passages of the Older Didascalia (see the.se, arranged 
on opposite pages, in F. X. Funk, Didasc. ct Const. 
Apostolorum, Paderbom, 1905). The Father in- 
habitslight inaccessible (.4^o.s<. Const, vi. 11, viii. 15, 
from 1 Ti 6""). Jesus is the true light (v. 16), and 
the bishop must be a student, and enlighten him- 
self with the light of knowledge (ii. 5 ; cf. viii. 37). 
These phrases (except v. 16) are not in the Older 
Didascalia. In Sarapion's Sacramentary God is 
called the ' Fount of light,' and is prayed to give us 
the (or a) Spirit of light (§ 1; JThSt i. [1899] 105, 
in Funk [op. cit. ii. 172], numbered § 13). Gregory 
of Naziauzus (Orat. xl. 5 f . [A.D. 381]) calls angels 
and men 'light' in an inferior sense, though in 
the highest sense God alone is light. 

In the Clementine Recognitions, now thought to 
be of the 4th cent., Simon Magus, denying that 
God has a Son, says that there is a power of infinite 
and inefiable light (i.e. God), of which power even 
the Demiurge, Moses, and Jesus are ignorant 
(ii. 49). 



04 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Christian) 



3. Light as describing- the relation of the Father 
and the Son. — We nuiy now investigate the use 
of tlic plinise ' Li^rht ot Lipht'l^"' (" </>wiSs) ap- 
plieil to our Lonl. In the NT the P'ather is Light, 
anil the Son is Lif;ht ; but the above phrase is not 
used, tliou^'li in Ho I' our Lord is the effulgence 
i,aira<fa<rua) of the Father's plory and the very 
inia;;e of His substance ; the reference seems to be 
to Wis 7*, where Wisdom is ' an ettslgence from 
everlasting light . . . and an image of [(jod's] 
goodness.' (Kor various Patristic comments on 
He 1' .se« Westeott's note, Epistle to the Hebreivs, 
London, 1889, p. U.) 

An early approximation to the phrase ' Light of 
Light' is found in Origen {tie. Prin. i. 1), who says 
that God is light, illuminating man, and interprets 
' thy light ' in Ps 36* of the Hon. In the Snd cent. 
Justin had used the illustration of fire kindled 
from lire with reference to the Son and the Father 
{Dial. 11, 128) ; and Tatian (c. Orar. 5) re-echoes his 
words. So also TertuUinn {Apol. 21) says that a 
ray of the sun is still jiart of the sun ; there is no 
division of substance, but only an extension ; thus 
Christ is Spirit of Spirit, ami God of God, as light 
of light is kindled. liut Athauasius sees a danger 
in the metaphor of lire. He says {de Decretia, v. 
23) that the Son is not as tire kindled from the 
heat of the sun, which is commonly put out again, 
but is 'effulgence' (ctiraiVyaff/za), signifying that He 
is from the essence, proper and indivisible, of the 
Father, and is one with Him (see A. Robertson's note 
on the passage in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 
iv. [1892] 165). Arius in his letter to Alexander 
had quoted Ilieracas as saying that the Son was 
from the Father as a light from a light (Xi^poi/ dird 
Xiixi'ou), or a lamp divided into two (quoted by 
Epiphanius, HcBr. Ixix. 7). In the small treatise 
In illud 'Omnia,' 3 (on Lk 10--), Athanasius says 
that Christ, the Lin;ht, can never be separated 
from the Father. In Orat. c. Arian. iv. 2 the 
writer speaks of the Word as 'Light from Fire,' 
and in iv. 10 compares the Father and the Son to 
fire and the efi'ulgenee from it, ' which are two in 
l>eing .and in appearance, Init one in that its eflulg- 
ence is from it indivisibly' ; but it is uncertain if 
this fourth Oration is by Athanasius. 

Later in the 4th cent. (.\.D. 381), Ambrose says 
that ' the Father is Light, and the Son is Light, 
and the Holy Ghost is Light, and the Holy Ghost 
is both Light and Fire,' referring to Ls 10" (ffc 
Spir. Sand. i. 14 [160 fT.]). The well-known hymn 
<put i\ap6v {' Hail, gladdening Light'), sung at the 
Lamp-lighting, calls the Son the ' gladdening Liglit 
of the holy glory of the immortal, heavenly Father '; 
it is older than Basil, who apparently quotes it((/c 
Spir. SanH. xxix. [73], A.D. 374). 

The phrase ' Light of Light ' is found in the creed 
of Nic;ea and in the enlarged creed (called the 
creed 'of Constantinople') which came into 
general use. It was derived by the former from 
the creed of Eusebius of Caisarea, which, as 
Kusebius told the Nicene Fathers, had been handed 
down from preceding bishops of that see, and used 
in the baptismal eatechesis ; this creed had ' God 
of Gml, Light of Light, Life of Life' (Socrates, HE 
i. 8). On the other hand, the phrase 'Light of 
Light ' is not in the creed of Gregory Thaumaturgus 
(c. A.D. 2G5), which has only ' Sole of Sole {liSvot ix 
/x6i>ov), God of God' (it is given in Ante-Nicene 
Chr. Lib. xx. [1882] 5). In Cyril of Jerusalem 
(Cat. iv. 7) the Son is called ' begotten Life of Life, 
begotten Light of Light'; in xi. 4 Cyril repeats 
this phra.se and adds ' Truth of Truth, and Wisdom 
of ^\ isdom, and King of King, and God of God, 
and Power of Power' (cf. xi. 18). The phrase 
' Light of Light ' occurs in R. H. Connolly's recon- 
struction of Aphraates' creed (4th cent.; JT/i.^l ix. 
[1908] 280), but not in the creeds of the various 



Cluirch Orders, though those of the Ajwmt. Const. 
(vii. 41) and of the Ef/i/pfian (Coptic) and Ethiopic 
Church Orders are of the Eastern type (those 
of the Testament of our Lord, the Canons 
nf Hippobjtns, and the Verona Frnrjnients are 
the Western or Roman creed). Tt is instruc- 
tive to note the ditVerent creeds of the Civuncil of 
.\ntioch in Kiic-eniis, A.D. S41. The second creed 
has 'God of (!od. Whole of Whole, Sole of Sole, 
Perfect of Perfect, King of King, Lord of Lord, 
the living Word, the living Wisdom, [Life], the 
true Light,' etc. The third creed has merelj- ' per- 
fect God of perfect (Jod.' The fourth creed, drawn 
up by a continuation of the Synod, has 'God of 
God, Light of Light . . . who is tlie Word and 
Wisdom and Power and Life, and the true Light' 
(the.se creeds are given in Athanasius, de Synodis, 
23, 24, 25, and the second and fourth in Socrates, 
HE'xi. 10, 18; See them also in Ilefele, Councils, 
Eng. tr., Edinburgh, 1876, ii. 77-SU). With refer- 
ence to the phrase in question Ba.sil, when dealing 
with the relation of the Son to the Father, and 
speaking of the phrase 'like in sulistance' {Sfioiov 
Kar' ouaiav), says that he will accept the jihrase if 
the word dTrapaWdk-Tus ('without any ditt'erence 'J 
be added, as equivalent to the Homoousion : 

' Being: of this mind the Fathers at Nicwa spoke of the Only- 
beyotten as *' Light of Light," "Very God of Very Goti," and so 
on, and llien consistently Mided the Homoousion. It isimpossibk- 
for any one to entertain the idea of variableness of light in 
relation to light, of truth in relation to truth, or of the essence 
of the Only-begotten in relation to that of the Father* (Ep. ix. 
'i, to Maximus). 

Passing to later times, we note the curious fact 
that the phrase does not occur in the present 
Nestorian Creed (F. E. Brightman, Lit. East, and 
West., Oxford, 1896, p. 270), thoughit is in that of 
the Nestorian Catholicos Ishuyaw (Isho'yahbh) I., 
A.D. 595, which is given by W. A. Wigram, The 
Asstjrian Church, London, 1910, p. 291. 

Renewing the evidence, we conclude that the 
appearance of the phr.ase in a creed cannot be 
athrmed before the 3rd cent., though perhaps (in 
view of Eusebius's word 'bishops' in the plural as 
above) it was so nsed early in that century ; 
Ciesarea was perhaps its first home. But before 
this there is earlier evidence (in the 2nd cent.) of 
the use of the symbolism of ' Light of Light,' though 
not of the phrase itself. Even after Nicea it was 
not by any means universally adopted into creeds. 
It will be remembered that the creed of Nica?a 
was a test of orthodoxy, and was not at first used 
liturgically ; it was not, apparently, for some time 
used at baptisms, and was not introiluced into the 
Eucharistic service till the end of the 5th century. 
It is not surprising therefore that, in spite of the 
great authority of the Covmcil of Nicwa, the phrase 
in question did not at once spread very rapidly. 

4. Baptism and light. — In the early Church the 
symbolism of light was closely connected with the 
sacrament of initiation. Bapti.sm was, especi.ally 
by the Greeks, called 'illumination,' tfHjintrfids or 
tpuTiff/ia, as in Justin {Apul. i. 61), in Gregory of 
Nazianzus {Oral. xl. 1 ; cf. ii. 36), once in the 
Apost. C0n.1t. (ii. 32, where it expressly includes 
the laj'ing on of hands ; in vi. 1 and viii. 12 the 
word is used literally, of the pillar of tire, and in 
ii. 5, V. 1 metaphorically, of knowledge : cf. 2 Co 
4''-'), and in the Older Didascalia {Vcruna Latin 
Fragments, ed. Hauler, p. 87: ' post inluminationem 
quod dicit (Ira-cns fotisuia,' with reference to He 
6* [not in the corresponding passage of Apost. 
Const.]). Similarly the selected candidates for 
baptisnt were called e^wrij'o^fi'oi, ' those who are in 
process of beiu"; ilhimin.ated ' (Lat. eompctentes), 
and the baptized were called ' the illumin:ited' (0! 
(puTia9ivTe^)^as in Justin (Apol. i. 61, 65, Dial. 
122), Clement of Alexandria {Pitd. i. 6), who 
quotes Eph 5' of baptism, and wrongly derives 0ut, 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Christian) 



55 



' mau,' from 0u)5, ' light,' Cyril of Jerusalem {Cut., 
Introd. I. xi. 1, xiii. 21), and the Apost. Const. 
(viii. 8 and 35) ; Eusebius says that Constantine 
at his Iiaptism ' was hlled with heavenly light ' 
(Vit. Const, iv.&l). For this reason the baptistery 
was often called in Greek (j>wTi.<!Ti]pi.ov • the Arabic 
Didctscalia (§ 35), which derives its account of the 
church buildings from the Testament of our Lord, 
i. 19, transliterates this name into Arabic (Funk, 
Did. et Const. Aji. ii. 124 f.). 

This symbolism is found also in the NT. In He 
6* 10^'- the aorist participle <t>uTi<rdii'T(s ('illumin- 
ated '), denoting a dehnite act, clearly refers to 
the Christian act of initiation, and the Syriac 
versions, both the Peshitta and the I.Iarqleian, in 
translating these jjassages, explicitly refer them to 
baptism. The metaphor has been thought to have 
been derived from the Greek mysteries, though 
the NT /ivrrrripia are quite unlike the heathen ones 
in that in the former the revelation of the unknown 
is what is emphasized (cf. Mk 4", 1 Co 4' 13- 14^ 
and Col 1°*, where see Li"htfoot's note). 

The custom of the candidates for baptism carry- 
ing torches probably came from the metaphor, not 
the metaphor from the custom, which is perhaps 
alluded to by Cyril of Jerusalem {Cat., Introd. and 
i. I) and certainly in pseudo-Ambrose {de Laps. 
Virq. V. [19], A.D. 374 [?]). 

Tliere is a 2nd cent, legend, mentioned by Justin 
{Dial. 88), that, when Jesus was baptized, 'a lire 
«as kindled in Jordan.' It is mentioned in tlie 
apocryphal Preaching of Paul, in the Ebionite 
Cxospel, and in the Old Latin codices 'a' 'g' (in 
Mt 3'* they read 'lumen ingens' or 'magnum'; 
see H. B. Swete, Holy Spirit in NT^, London, 1910, 
p. 43 n.), and is a commonplace of Syriac literature. 
In the Diatessaron it was related that a light 
fiashed on Jordan and the river was girdled witli 
white clouds. This reading is attested by Barsalibi 
and Isho'dadh (see F. C. Burkitt, Evange'ion da- 
mepharreshe, CaiLbridge, 1004, p. 115). 

From the baptismal metaphor, Epijihany was 
called 'The Holy Lights' (cf. Greg. Naz. Oral. 
xxxix. and xl. 1) ; our Lord's baptism is the event 
principally commemorated at that festival in the 
East (see, further, art. Epiphany). 

5. Liturgical use of lights. — There are many 
traces of the symbolic use of lights in Christian 
services, from the 4th cent, onwards. Perhaps the 
earliest is in connexion with funerals. At the 
Spanish Council of Elvira (c. A.D. 305, can. 34) 
the custom of burning candles in the day-time in a 
cemetery was forbidden, lest the spirits of the saints 
should be disturbed — a custom probably borrowed 
from the heathen (see Hefele, op. cit. i. 150). 
But in some form the custom continued. Lights 
were carried, as in heathen, so in Christian, funeral 
processions ; see Gregoiy of Nyssa, de Vita S. 
Macrinw (near the end, ed. Paris, 1638, ii. 201 A ; 
c. A.D. 380), and Funeral Oration on Meletius 
(near the end; A.D. 381). Eusebius says {Vit. 
Const, iv. 66) that Constantine's bodj' lay in state 
' surrounded by candles burning in candlesticks of 
gold, presenting a marvellous spectacle ' ; and 
Gregory the Great {Ep. ix. 3, to Januarius, A.D. 
598) speaks of relatives at a funeral ottering lights 
for churches. 

About the 4th cent, we find the symbolic use of 
lights in other Christian services. In the Testa- 
ment of our Lord {\. 19) it is directed that all parts 
of the chnrch ' be lighted, both for a type, and also 
for reading.' The derived Arabic Didascalia ex- 
pands this phrase thus : ' Let them be lighted with 
many lights as a figure of heavenly things, especi- 
ally in the reading of the pericopae of tlie sacred 
books ' (§ 35 ; Funk, op. eit. ii. 1'25). It has been 
suggested that lights had necessarily been in mse 
in the catacombs and in the assemblies before dawn 



in times of persecution, and tliat, when churches 
were built above ground in times of peace, the 
usage was continued and was given a symbolic 
turn (W. E. Scudaraore, in DCA ii. 993 f . ). This 
may be partly true, though it does not explain all 
the circumstances of the case. For we find lights 
also used as a decoration at festivals, as when 
Paulinus of Nola (c. A.D. 407 ; t A.D. 431) describes 
the innumerable festal lights burning night and 
day as a sign of rejoicing {Poem. xiv. [de S. Felicia 
Natalit., carm. iii.] line 99 11'.). ' Etheria,' or 
' Silvia ' (whose Peregrinatio has usually been dated 
at the very end of the 4th cent., though many 
scholars think it is .somewhat later), describes the 
same thing as happening daily at Jerusalem (part 
of this work is given in App. 5 of L. Duchesne, 
Christian Worship, Eng. tr.^, London, 1912 ; see 
pp. 493, 498). Tins was also a heathen custom 
(Juvenal, Sat. xii. 92). Again, we find lights 
carried processionally in front of a person, as in 
the Ordo Romanus Primus (c. A.D. 770), where 
seven candles are carried before the pope before 
mass (ed. E. G. C. F. Atchley, Ordo Horn. Prim. 
m 7 f., 21). In the Ordo in the MS of St. Amand 
(Duchesne, p. 457) two candles are lighted when 
the pope says mass, and are placed behind the 
altar in candlesticks, right and left. A 5th 
cent, ivory at Trfeves exhibits candles can'ied in 
[irocession (W. C. Bishop, in the Prayer Book 
Dictionary, p. 435). In tliese cases the Christian 
custom comes straight from the heathen — in the 
case of the processional lights from the custom of 
carrying lights before the emperor — and we can- 
not trace them to the usage in the catacombs. 

Three otlier symbolical usages in connexion with 
lights may be noticed. («) Gospel lights, i.e. lights 
used at the reading of the liturgical Gospel at the 
Eucharist, are mentioned by Jerome (c. Vigilant. 
7 ; A.D. 378), and are said by him to have been 
universal in the East, ' not so as to jnit darkness 
to flight, but by way of showing our joy ' (he also 
attests the use of lighted tapers in honour of 
martyrs). Later on these lights at the Gospel are 
often mentioned — e.g., in the Ordo Bom. Prim. § 11. 
(i) The Pasc/ial candle was blessed on Easter Even 
(' benedictio cerei '), and is alluded to, perhaps by 
Augtistine {de Civ. Dei, xv. 22; A.D. 413-426: read 
' in laude . . . cerei '), certainly by Gregory of 
Nazianzus {Orat. xlv. 2) and Gregory the Great : 
' the prayers . . . said over the wax taper, and the exposition 
of the Gospels ^iven by priests about tne time of the Paschal 
solemnity ' (Ep. xi. 33). 

The candle was carried before the compctentes to 
the font (cf. § 4, above), and denoted the rising 
of the Sun of righteousness. The Liber Pontifiealis 
says that Pope Zosimus (a.d. 417) extended the 
custom of blessing the Paschal candle to the 
parish churches of Rome. (c)The oHiceof Tcnebree 
is found from the 7th or 8th cent, onwards— an 
extremely symbolic service on the night which 
ushers in Good F'riday. After each of the three 
nocturns one-third of tlie lights were extinguished, 
except that seven remained, which were gradually 
put out during matins, the last when the Gospel 
was read {DCA ii. 994^). 

We may ask what is the meaning of this symbol- 
ism of lights when transferred to Christianity, 
and used in its services. Putting aside the lights 
carried before a dignitary, we gather that the 
general idea was that, on the one hand, Christ is 
the Light of the world, and that, on the other, 
Christianity is the religion of light and Christians 
are children of light. Theirs is an open religion, 
not confined to the few, like the Greek mysteries, 
not hiding itself, as those cults which became so 
common in the heathen world, and loved darkness 
rather than light. Such seems to be the symbolism 
of the liturgical use of lights. 



56 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Greek and Roman) 



LlTKRATriiE. — (1) For the subject of light as expressing the 
relHtioii of the Father and the Son see especially the works of 
Athaiiasius, and the edition of A. Robertson, Select HV/N'mys 
and Letters of Atfianasms^ tr. and notes, Oxford, ISOlI (the 
Index, ({.r. * Lijrht ' and 'Simile,' ^ivesa useful list of passajjes) ; 
seealsoE. C. S. Gibson, I'he Three Creeds. London, 10(18, iii. 1. 
(2) For the litur^'ical use of lights see W. E. Scudanlore, 
Notitia Kueharistica^, London, 1S76, and art. 'Lights. Cere- 
monial Use of,' in DCA ; E. G. C. F. Atchley, Ordii Ilomaniis 
Primus, London, 1905; W. C. Bishop, art. 'Lights' in the 
Prayer Buuk DictwHary , do. 1912 ; C. E. Hammond, art. 
'Paschal Taper' in DCA. (3) The symbolism of the NT is 
treated hv F. H. Woods in HiliJand J. MofTatt in DCO, artt. 
' Light.' On the whole subject see albo the works mentioned in 
the course of the article. j\. J. MACLKAN. 

LIGHTANDDARKNESS(GieekandKoman). 
— In the lielilti of tlie Hellenic and the Italic civil- 
izations we have in histuric times a divinity recog- 
nized ,a.s supreme, Zeus or Jupiter, who is a 
personilication of the sky and the daylight that 
tills it. He has counterparts in the religious 
systems of kindred races. Among Greeks and 
Komans and peoples .subjected to their inlluence 
there arc two groujis of contrasted divinities, those 
of the ujiper world {Oeol ovpaviot, di superi) and 
those of the under world (8eoi xSi^tot, di inferi), the 
former the authors of life and increase and prosper- 
ity, the latter of death and waning and misery to 
mortal creatures. 

I. Greek. — Certain varying waves of tendency, 
changing the behaviour of believers towards these 
tv.'o classes, may be discerned in the history of the 
Greeks. There was a time when the chiet sacred 
centres had mysterious connexion with the realms 
of darkness, when the fear of obscurity had more 
power over the religious consciousness than the 
delight in heavenly radiance. The spots at which 
there were reputed entrances to the domain of 
Hades and darkness were numerous in early Greek 
days. In many instances, subterranean pheno- 
mena, eartliquakes, sulphurous or mcphitic emana- 
tions, disappearing rivers, or medicinal waters had 
much to do with the superstitions that gathered 
round such places. Even in historic Greece prac- 
tices of a primitive character were maintained in 
such localities, for in religions the new never 
entirely drives out the old ; there is ah\'ays super- 
position of .strata. At Ttenarum, a promontory of 
Laconia, there was a cleft througli which Herakles 
and Orpheus had both passed when they visited the 
infernal shades. In the i^rop's (186), Aristophanes 
puts an absurd speech in the mouth of Charon, the 
ferryman of the Sty.v, ridiculing these popular ideas. 
Most of the ancient oracles were connected with 
sites where there was communication with the 
nether darkness. This is illustrated by the story 
of the visit of .iEneas to the Cunwan Sibyl, as 
told by Virgil, and by the behaviour at iJelphi 
of tlie Pythian priestess, the mouthpiece of the 
oracul.ar A]>oIlc). The secrets of the future have 
been supposed in all ages to be in the keeping of 
spirits below, while in Greek literature the sun 
has knowledge of all the secrets of the present. 
The name 'necromancer' indicates the persistence 
of the belief about the dwellers in the regions of 
darkn(;ss. 

As time went on, many of the places which had 
been ])rincij)ally associated with the powers of 
darkness pa.sse<l into the possession of divinities 
who were mostly of the light. This was strikingly 
the case with Delphi, where, as the later llreeks 
s.aid, the worship of the chthoniau deity Karth (Ge 
or Gaia) was succeeded by that of Apollo, god of 
brightness. As civilization and culture strength- 
ened, the reverence paiil to the gods beneath was 
apt to be left to the uninstructed, and to pa.ss into 
the backwater of superstition. Some of the figures 
of the dark were partially transformed into ligures 
of the light. Thus it was with Demeter anil 
I'er.-iephone as they appeared in the historic age in 



the mysteries colclnated at Klcusis. Hades, the 
consort of Persephone, underwent a like change, 
indicated by his later name Plouton (Pluto), i.e. 
god of wealth or jirospcrity. The change of view 
was sometimes aided by euphemism, (wiusing 
dreaded deities to bo propitiated by well-sounding 
titles. So the avenging spirits of gloom, the 
Furies, were vener.ated as ' Kunienides,' 'benevo- 
lent ones' (cf. artt. Eu.mf.nides, Erinye.s; 
Euphemism). 

A profound alteration was wrought in the 
religious conceptions of the Greeks l)y the rein 
given to their myth-making faiu'y and to their 
artistic genius, working on things divine. As 
human traits wore inwrought into the texture of 
dimly apprehended superhuman existences, and 
were enwrapped by the clouds of poetry and 
the dreams of art, their original connexion with 
natural objects oecame veilcil, and in some cases 
was forgotten. The process had already been 
carried far when the Homeric- poetry arose in its 
glory. Some figures that did not very readily lend 
themselves to transformation received little notice 
in later worship. Eos, the dawn-goddess, is promi- 
nent in Homer, but, as she is al.so too obviously 
the dawn, she is present but little in later ritual. 
Ovid remarked that her temples were the rarest 
in the world (Mctrnn. xiii. 588). But the divine 
being who is wreathed in poetry and art does not 
generally lose that particular contact with nature 
which gave him his origin. Zeus remained the 
actual source of events in the sky. Where we say 
'it rains' or 'it snows,' the Greek said ' he rains,' 
or ' he snows,' and sometimes mentioned the name 
of Zeus. Horace speaks of the hunter camping at 
night 'under the chilling Jove' (Od. I. i. '25). 
Apollo was always connected with the sunlight, 
Artemis with the moon, and so with many others. 
When the overgrowth of legend became abundant, 
there was an impulse to return to the venera- 
tion of actual heavenly bodies. Thus the worship 
of Helios, the sun, went on side by side with that 
of Apollo. Naturally, in historic times the devel- 
opment of mythology produced a mixture of attri- 
butes, and the interference of many divinities with 
one and the same function. The appearance and 
disappearance of the heavenly bodies suggested 
that the realms of light and darkness had inter- 
communication. Hermes, in the main a god of 
brightness, becomes a conductor of souls to regions 
below. Moreover, light was .sometimes really 
baneful and at other times was thought so. 
Therefore Apollo, the sun-god, has a mission to 
destroy life, as well as to preserve it by medicine 
and to enhance its value by poetry and music. 
Dionysos, whose connexion with the sun is clear, 
also has to do with the shades ; and .so with other 
divinities. The bad efl'ects of heat led to the idea 
that Pan, the god of the open country, is most to 
he dreaded at noon-day, for then he can inflict 
madness. The mild gleams of the moon and the 
divinities who guide them were usually beneticent, 
but sometimes had the contrary activit5'. The 
waxing moon is of good intent, the waning moon 
brings sickness and death. Hekate, a moon-god- 
dess, kindly and supernal in the earlier age of 
Greece, became later a malignant power of dark- 
ne.ss. It may be remarked that the reverence paid, 
with clear consciousness, to astral hoilies as such 
was never at any time .so marked in historic Hellas 
as among P.abyhmians ami Semiles. As a religious 
motive it belongs rather to the late Hellenic age, 
and the age of (Jra'co-Koman civilization, and even 
then, as we shall see, it aliected the (mtcr fringes 
of Greek civilization, where it was wrestling with 
barbarism, rather than its heart and centre. 

Besides the light of heavenly luminaries, great 
and small, there is the irregular and alarming lire 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Greek and Roman) 



57 



from lioaven, the liglitniuf;. The deities who rule 
the reyuhir li^ht also send liglitniuy, especially 
Zeus, one of whose cliief emblems is the thunder- 
bolt, and also Atliene and Apollo. It is sometimes 
a sign of divine anger, as when Seniele died by its 
stroke, sometimes an indication that the god has 
signified his w ill and given a presage of the future. 
To interpret the sign is, of course, a matter for an 
expert. Lightning was thus connected with divina- 
tion and prophecy, and spots struck by the sacred 
bolt were revered. 

Tlie lire which is of use to men on earth could 
not )iut be regarded as in its origin divine, and as 
venerable, being a symbol of the eternal. The 
apparent everlastingness of the fire of whicli sun, 
moon, and stars are the manifestations doubtless 
contributed to the importance of lire in the ritual 
of worship. A vein of thought which lies deep in 
the nature of men in the earlier stages of religion, 
that the gods are envious of human beings and 
grudge them the things of which they wish to 
possess themselves, is illustrated by the legends of 
which Prometheus was the centre. The gift of 
lire was one which the gods would fain have with- 
held, and they punished him who outwitted them. 
A number of Greek divinities have relations with 
the earthly lire. Hephaistos, the great metal- 
worker, uses the tierce subterranean flames which 
find vent in the crests of .Ktna and the Lipari 
Isles. In Homer and the poets generally he is the 
maker of all the weapons, emblems, and equip- 
ments of the Olympians, of the sceptre of Zeus, of 
the arrows of Apollo and Artemis. Hestia, god- 
dess of the familj' hearth, has an especial connexion 
with earthly fire. She is the only one of the 
greater divine beings whose name has a transpar- 
ent significance in life, equivalent to the hearth 
of the house, always regarded as in some sense an 
altar. As every house had this altar, so the great 
State family had its central hearth-altar for all 
the burgesses. AVhen a city sent out some of its 
sons to found a colony afar, the central fire of the 
new community was lighted from the central fire 
of the old home. When a city was under a 
monarch or despot, its common hearth was in his 
dwelling; in a republican community it was in 
the town-hall(irpi/Ta^eioi')(see, further, art. Hearth, 
Hearth-gods [Greek]). The conception of Hestia 
remained one of the clearest and simplest in tlie 
range of Greek religion. Where the name of a 
divinity retains an obvious meaning, he does not 
lend himself to a covering of myth. Another 
divinity in whose ritual fire was conspicuous «'as 
Dionysos or Bacchus. The pine-tree and the 
torches that it provides fig\ue in the Bacchic re- 
vels, as depicted, for instance, by Euripides in his 
BacchxE. What we call the St. Elmo's fire was 
connected with the great twin-gods, the Dioscuri, 
Castor and Pollux. 

The gods of light and darkness must have a potent 
influence on life, and especially on the beginnings 
of life. The hearth-fire itself was treated as a 
symbol of the generation of the human being, and 
a growth of legend and ritual was. developed from 
this idea. Tlie light-bringing divinities are very 
naturally those who bring the child out of the pre- 
natal darkness into the light of life, and many 
deities were at diUerent times and in different 
places supposed to exercise this function (cf. art. 
Birth [Greek and Roman]). Zeus himself to the 
latest age was a god of birtli ; but the powers that 
guide the milder radiance of the moon rather than 
those that wield the fiercer splendour of the sun 
had chiefly this duty, and the greatest among them 
was Artemis. 

The mysteries of the darkness beyond the grave, 
in which departed souls were hidden, gave rise to 
multifarious practices and beliefs. There were 



many divine beings who either ruled the dead or 
guarded souls against the iierils of the. passage from 
this world to the next. There is no portion of the 
field of Greek religion in which the develo]imcnt of 
ideas from Homer's age to the time of the latest 
Greek philosophic speculation was more complex. 
The notion of a possible deliverance from the bonds 
of death prompted a series of beautiful tales, such 
as that of the restoration of Alcestis to Admetns, 
the theme of the fine tragedy of Euripides, the 
recovery of Eurydice by Orpheus, or of Persephone 
by Denieter. In this connexion the most interest- 
ing evolution, from a religions and social point of 
view, is to be found in the Greek mysteries. They 
represent the striving of souls on earth to be 
assured of safety in the perilous passage from the 
bed of death to a happy abiding-place in the world 
beyond. Starting from gross forms, in which 
enchantment had a great part, the mysteries were 
refined and moralized so as to satisfy the higher 
yearnings of the spirit, and to instil that better 
hope in death which, Cicero says, was given by 
initiation at Eleusis (de Legibus, li. 36). 

During the great age of Greece there was among 
the Hellenes no mde-spread conception of such a 
mysterious intliience of heavenly bodies on human 
life as was systematized by the Chalda?an astro- 
logers. This lore came from Eastern lands, especi- 
ally Babylon, and was only in loose contact with 
religion ; it was devotedly followed only in a later 
time, and then more in the sphere of Roman than 
ill that of Greek civilization. The same is true of 
the real religious veneration of sun, moon, and stars. 
But mystic ideas concerning these entered into the 
earliest Greek thought— that of the Orphic and 
Pythagorean schools. The express attribution, 
however, of divinity to the heavenly bodies appears 
comparatively late in the history of Greek philo- 
sophy. Plato, in his Timwus (p. 38 f.), describes 
the fixed stars as divine existences brought into 
being by the ' Workman ' (Demiurgus) of the 
universe at the bidding of the supreme god. In 
other passages he assigns divine character to the 
sun, moon, and planets. He was followed, with 
variations, by later thinkers — Xenokrates, Hera- 
kleides of Pontos, and many others. Aristotle 
described the celestial bodies as containing a great 
divine element, and pointed out that this belief, 
now explicitly declared by philosophers, was im- 
plicit, in an obscure form, in the popular mythology. 
Like doctrine was taught by the Stoics and particu- 
larly by Cleanthes, who considered that in the sun 
lay the guiding principle (^7€M<"'«ii'') of the universe. 
It was common to call the heavenly bodies ' visible 
gods ' as opposed to the unseen divine power. 
These notions were prevalent among the Neo- 
Pythagoreans. Apollonius of Tyana {q.v.}, the 
seer and wonder-worker of the late 1st cent. A.D., 
venerated the sun at dawn, like many an Oriental 
of to-day. That the practice was popular In Greece 
is shown by the salute which Sokrates otters to the 
rising luminary, at the end of his great tlrinking- 
bout. In the Symposhim of Plato. The Neo- 
Platonists, who powerfully aflected the thought 
and religion of the Romanlmperial period, embraced 
and developed beliefs like those that have been cited. 
Philo, the great Alexandrian Jewish philosopher, 
was in this respect fully in accord with the Greeks. 
An Idea that was wide-spread in the ]>liilosophic 
schools, and especially favoured by the Stoics, was 
that the contemplation of the heavenly bodies in 
their purity and in the regularity of their operations 
had an ethical value for the regulation of human 
conduct. 

2. Roman. — Among the Romans notions concern- 
ing the regions of light and darkness were clothed 
In some distinctive forms. The dread of evil that 
might befall if the inhabitants of the nether world, 



58 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Greek and Roman) 



tlie departed spirits of mortals, did not recidve tlieir 
due from the livinj,' was iinuli more marked than 
in Hellenic communities. [n the historic time, 
till Cliristianily prevailed, the bodies of tlie dead 
were crematc<l, but some of the attendant cere- 
monies pointed to a remote age when inhumation 
was the rule (if. art. Death and Pispd'^al ok 
THE Dkad [tireek]). In primitive days the tumh 
must have been re^'arded as the only place haunted 
by the ghosts, and down to the latest age it was so 
treated in many ceremonial practices. But quite 
early a conception must have sprung up of a general 
habitation for those who were colloquially called 
' the majority.' The Romans, however, never 
imagined for themselves a judgment beyond the 
tomb, which .should assign one dwelling-place for 
the good, another for the bad. The great sclieme 
pictured by Virgil in ^niid vi., which h;vs stimu- 
lated the imagination not only of poets but of 
many religionists ever since, was drawn after tireek 
patterns. The genuine Roman under world was a 
tract of gloom, and the spirits were minded to do 
harm to the living unless tlieir wants were supplied, 
though to avoid otfence they were called ' good 
people' (mnnes). The ritual for the foundation of 
a new city required that somewhere near its centre 
an underground chamber called mundus should be 
provided, into which were e.ist fruits of the eartli, 
probably to satisfy the hunger of the dead, thou.:;li 
that may not have been the only purpose of the 
mundus. This chamber was opened at stated 
times mentioned in the calendar,'.when fresh oll'er- 
ings were made to the departed, who were thus 
kept in order and restricted to appearances on the 
daj's set apart. These gifts, presented by the 
nation as a whole to the nation's dead, were parallel 
to the private presentations at each of the family 
tombs. Special days for the service of the dead 
existed in Greece, but they were never so general 
or so precisely ordered as among the Romans. 
There was one mvndus on the I'alatine Hill supposed 
to have been the work of Romulus when he founded 
Rome ; there was another in the Forum, and others 
elsewhere. Otlerings at these places were made to 
all the di infiri — a phrase in which dead mortals 
are included, as being in some sort divine. Every 
Roman tombstone was inscribed ' Dis manibus,' • to 
the divine spirit.s.' The Lnrra and Leitiures, to 
whom propitiatory offerings were made, are merely 
the ghosts regarded collectively, in their unsatisfied 
and therefore terrifying aspect. 

As to special divinities of the realms beneath, 
the earliest worshipped at Rome seems to have 
been Tellus, Mother Earth, 'the parent of all 
things and their common tomb,' as Lucretius calls 
her (v. '259). In the later age slie was le.ss and le.ss 
regarded, in consequence of the attractiveness of 
Greek invasions in the sphere of religion. Names 
like Genita Mana, Lara, and others invoked in the 
indigitameiilii (}.!'.), appear to have been epithets 
of Earth. So, in (Greece, Gaia was in some sense a 
goddess of the dead, and the same attribute was, 
of coarse, given to the divinized Hgure of Earth in 
other mythologies (cf. art. Earth, Earth-gods, 
§8). 

\ curious place of communication with the infer- 
nal regions was a spot called ' Terentus' in the Cam- 
pus Martins, where probably at one time mephitic 
vapours escaped. 'I his became in 249 B.C. the 
centre for a cult newly imported from Greece — that 
of Dis (whose name is a rendering of Pluto or Plo»- 
ton)and Proserpina. The cult was probably grafted 
on to more ancient and jmrely Roman ceremonial. 
The blend gave rise to the characteristically Rom.in 
' secular games,' celebrated theoretically, but not 
always in practice, at intervals of a century, to 
ensure the safety of the city. The most famous 
celebration is that ordered by Augustus in 17 B.C., 



when Horace acted as laureate and suiqilicd the 
Carmen Hweulare. 

The idea of a <'ommunication with the realms of 
darkness through an opening in the earth can be 
traced in other rlirections. The dcvotio, whercliy 
a citizen could give himself up to the powers of 
gloom and thereby secure a favour for his country, 
is an exami)le. Livy (vii. 6) and other ancient 
writers have told how, in 362 B.C., Curtius, riding 
in full armour, made his horse jump with him into 
a chasm in tiie Forum, which closed up after him. 
The spot retained the name of ' the pool of Curtius.' 
Here in the reign of Augustus the populace cast 
down coins every year on the emperors birthday, 
to .secure his welfare (Suetonius, Auq. o1). The 
dcvo/io of the Decii, who vowed themselves to 
death by the enem}', thereby binding the powers 
to favour the s.afety of the country, w as somewhat 
dill'erent. Hut, should the devoted man fail to 
lind his death, the terms of his vow were satisfied 
by burying a lay figure in the earth with due ceie- 
mony — a curious example of the ease with which 
the gods might Lie cheated in Roman ritual. Tha 
walling up of the erring Vestal Virgin is an in- 
stance of the penal application of the devotio. 

It is hard to discover in Roman religion the 
worship of divinities clearly connected with 
heavenly objects before the time when Greek and 
Oriental influences became powerful. Even the 
relation of Jupiter to the light of the sun does not 
come out with distinctness. The word ' Lencesie' 
addressed to him in the very primitive hymn that 
survived in the ritual of the ' Arval Brothers' {rj.r.) 
refers to him as god of light, and a con'esponding 
epithet ' Lucetia' was applied to Juno, indicating 
a connexion between her and the moon. The 
antiquarian scholars of the late Republic declared 
that Titus Tatius, the Sabine king of Rome, had 
introduced the worship of the sun and moon into 
Rome from his own country, and that a temple of 
the sun on the Aventine was founded by him. 
This was the opinion of Varro (</« Ling. Lett. v. 
74), and Tacitus {Ann. xv. 41) attributed a temple 
of the moon (Luna) on the Capitol to Servius 
Tullius. But the official Roman calendar of fes- 
tivals, which is known to enshrine very ancient 
usage, gives no sign of official reverence paid to 
sun or moon, nor have we any sound evidence of 
a public priesthood devoted to them either at 
Rome or elsewhere among Italic peoples, though 
Varro assigned such an office in old days to the 
gens of the Aurelii. They were supposed to have 
come from the countiy of the Sabines, in whose 
tongue ausel denoted the sun. The Aventine, as 
is well known, was a home of cults introduced 
from Greece. The existence of a deity called 
Noctiluca (the ' night-shining one ') on the Palatine 
is hard to explain. The situation ini]rlies high anti- 
quity, for no god realized as foreign was allowed to 
take up an alKide w ithin the pomrrium of the city 
before the age of the Second Punic War. The 
name may have been an epithet of Juno, who was 
connected with the sky. In a ceremony connected 
with the fixin" of the calendar she was addressed 
as Juno Covella, ' Juno, goddess of the sky.' The 
name Lucina (closely connected with lux) was 
attached to her as the power which brought the 
child to light and birth. When tlie .ancient Italic 
goddess Diana was equated witli Artemis, the 
function of the Greek goddess, a-s superintending 
human birth, was transferred to Diana. 

The veneration of 'V'olcanus as god of fire belongs 
to an old stratum in Roman religion ; but, unlike 
Hepluiistos, he was worshipped, it seems exclu- 
sively, as iirotector against danger to men from 
fire. He was a popular divinity, and his cult was 
one of those which longest survived the intro- 
duction of Christianity. The forms with which 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Greek and Roman) 



69 



another divinity, Vesta, was venerated were re- 
niarlvably cliaracteristic of the Koinan people. 
Her atlinity witli tire and her kinsliip with the 
Greek Hestia are obvious ; but the worship of Vesta 
among Koniang is far more conspicuous tlian tliat 
of Hestia among (ireeks, possibly because tlie struc- 
ture of the Roman family resisted the assaults of 
time more stoutly than that of the Greek family. 
A great feature of Roman religion is the parallel- 
ism in many respects of the religious ceremonial 
of the family and that of the State. And tlie 
private and public worships of Vesta resemble 
each oilier not a little. Every house had a cult of 
Vesta, and the name was restricted to the divinity ; 
it hail no connotation like the name Hestia, which 
meant ' hearth' as well as goddess. .So thoroughly 
is Vesta a Latin deity that outside Latium hardly 
any signs of her existence have been found 
— a surprising fact when the similarity between 
Hestia and Vesta is remembered. In the home 
the cult of the goddess belonged to the matron 
and the virgin daughters, whose duty it was to 
see that the lire on the hearth was not extinguished. 
The centre of worship for the great State family 
was the ancient shrine of Vesta in the Forum, 
and no other public temple or altar devoted to her 
service existed before the end of the Republican 
period. The temple of Vesta was of the antique 
round shape derived from that of the earliest 
Roman house. Close by dwelt her priestesses, the 
Vestals, of whose abode important remains liave 
come to light in recent dajs. The temple never 
contained an image, for Vesta was the one ancient 
divinity in Rome who never succumbed to the 
anthropomorphic impulses of her worshippers. 
The only symbol of the goddess was the eternal 
tire, whose extinction Imported calamity to the 
land. Lapse of duty or impurity of life on the 
part of a Vestal was an omen of disaster, only to 
be averted by the sacrifice of the sinner. The 
Vestals were the daughters of the community, re- 
garded as one vast family. Augustus, who loved 
to present himself as the restorer and maintainer 
of the most ancient Roman rites, connected Vesta 
with the dwelling-place of the imperial family 
on the IVtlatine. The Pontifex Maximus had a 
public residence close to the house of the Vestals. 
Augustus made this ottice an appanage of the 
eruperor, and made over the ofhcial house to the 
Vestals. He then set aside with proper ceremony 
a portion of his palace on the Palatine to replace 
it and established there a second State temple of 
the goddess (see, further, art. Hearth, Hearth- 
gods [Roman]). 

We turn now to the later age of Rome. The 
conscious worship of the sun m.irked distinctively 
the dying days of Roman pag.inism. The oldest 
shrine dedicated to the sun was on the Quirinal, 
and seems to belong to the time of the Second 
Punie War, and to be a result of the mighty tide 
of religious infiuenee which then invaded Rome 
from Hellas. A desire to venerate the sun was 
manifested, however, earlier, when he appeared 
with his attributes on the Roman coinage. Aug- 
ustus placed in Rome two Egyptian obelisks be- 
fore the temple of Caesar, and they were supposed 
to be devoted to the sun. Vespasian transformed 
into a representation of the sun a great colossal 
figure erected by Nero in his own honour. Several 
influences contributed to increase Roman reverence 
for the luminary, to which inscriptions from 
the end of the 1st cent. A.D. bear increasing evi- 
dence. Some of the most po\\erful divine invaders 
who came from the East to conquer the West 
were solar divinities. Also, as mentioned above, 
philosophers and mystics had preached the divine 
nature of the sun and other celestial bodies. 
Immigrants from the East, and Romans, especi- 



ally soldiers, who had resided there, brought the 
religion of the .sun with thoni. The notable drift 
of sentiment towards monotheism aided (he move- 
ment, for the one god was often, and not unnatur- 
ally, identified with the sun. It was not, how- 
ever, till after t 'aracalla, by his univer.sal gift of 
Roman citizenship to the inhabitants of the cities 
of the empire, had cut away the ground for fencing 
off the civic goils of Rome from those of other 
connnunities that public and formal recognition 
was given to these Oriental beliefs. A remarkable 
event in the history of Roman religion was the 
accession to the throne of Elagabalus, who bore 
the name of an eastern solar god, whose priest he 
had been, like his ancestors before him. This was 
the divinity of the Syrian city of Emesa. The 
boy-emperor deposed Jupiter from his supremacy 
among Roman deities, and, placing his own god in 
the vacant seat, brought to Rome the round black 
stone which was the symbol (tvwo!) of the god. 
In his array of titles the emperor made his office 
as 'priest of the unconquerable sun Elagabalus' 
{Sacerdos invicti solis Elagabali) take precedence 
of the ancient designation of Pontifex Maximus. 
This was done in spite of the fact that the divine 
ruler of Emesa was sometimes correlated with 
Jupiter, probably because the eagle was an emblem 
of both. A temple was built contiguous to the 
Palatine residence of the emperor, and to it were 
removed the fire of Vesta and other venerable 
possessions, the Palladium that came from Troy, 
the shields of the Salii, archaic priests of Mars, 
and the stone which symbolized the Great Mother 
(Magna Mater), whose essentially Oriental divin- 
ity had been, curiously, recognized four centuries 
earlier than that of any other immigrant from the 
East. To give completeness to his innovation, 
Elagabalus made the foundation-day of the temple 
the same as the traditional foundation-day of 
Rome itself, the twenty-tirst day of April. He 
also ousted Vesta from the Palatine, where Aug- 
ustus had planted her, and gave her place to the 
god Elagabalus. The ritual of the usurping god 
contained Oriental features revolting to the Roman 
mind. Among the emperor's pranks was a mar- 
riage between his divinity and the goddess of Car- 
thage, sometimes identihed with Juno and called 
' the heavenly,' sometimes with Venus. It was 
about this time that 'Juno Ca;lestis' came to be 
widely venerated in the West, as connected nith 
the moon. The religious revolution of Elagabalus 
found some favour in the army, always a nurserj' 
of Orientalism. But, when his memory was laid 
under condemnation, the divinity of Emesa suffered 
with him and was exiled from Rome. 

The sun-god was to be glorified again, but in a 
saner fashion, in a later part of the same century, 
by Aurelian. He erected a fine temple in honour 
of 'the unconquerable god of the sun.' His bio- 
grapher (Hist. Aug. 25) nan-ates a miracle which 
occurred when Aurelian defeated Zenobia and her 
host under the walls of Emesa. At a critical 
moment he was encouraged by a divine form, which 
appeared again to him in the temple of Elagabalus 
within the city and was identified with that 
divinity. The writer supposed that the god es- 
tablished at Rome by Aurelian was Elagabalus ; 
but the condemnation that this divinity had under- 
gone makes the idea improbable. Some scholars 
have thought that Aurelian's god was the god of 
Palmyra, also connected with the sun. But it is 
most likely that the emperor did not wish to cor- 
relate him with any particular Oriental manifesta- 
tion. The only indication connected with the East 
is the epithet ' unconquerable ' (invictus). Aurelian 
specially associated the god with old Roman 
Ijractice by denominating the new College of 
priests as ' Pontitices.' Tlie sun was selected by 



60 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Hindu) 



tlie emperor as eniboHyiiig the monotheistic con- 
ception ; and, in so far as that is concerned, he may 
l)e !*aid to have liorrowed from the East. An inter- 
est ing inscription recently discovered in Ahnsia 
records how KiLiiiius the eUHer and Lioinins the 
younj^er ordereil the consecration of an iniaj;e of 
the sun and the establishment of a ceremony in his 
honour just before tlie great cro\vnin<; victory of 
Constantine, won near Adrianojile in 323 B.C. 
Some years before, Constantine liad ceased to place 
the sun on his coins, a practice common since 
Aurelian's time. 

We come now to the most dominant of all the 
reiiresentatives of the sun in the Roman sphere — 
Mithra, who is named ' Mitlira the uncimquerable 
sun 'in many inscriptions. The Mithraic .system 
was complex ami many-sided, however, and this is 
only one asjicct of the god. His cult embraced 
elements derived from many sources, not only from 
the I'ersian religion in which his origin is to be 
found, but from Babylon and elsewhere. Sun, 
moon, and stars were prominent in the ritual. 
The extraordinary spread of Mithraism in the 
ItoMian empire was mainly the result of tendencies 
which we have noted in other directions. The 
vogue of JNIithra was especially notable on tlie 
frontiers of the empire and in the camps situated 
there. But many of his shrines have been found 
in the inner lands, especially on the sites of sea- 
ports. At Rome he was venerated on the Jani- 
culum, where M. Gauckler a few years ago dis- 
covered a remarkable shrine. Another lies under 
the church of San Clemente, and memorials have 
been found also where the Vatican now stands. 
The popularity of the Mithraic worship was speci- 
ally due to the ]irovision which it made for satisfy- 
ing some yearnings which afterwards found a fuller 
gratification in Christianity. So many were the 
resemblances between the religion of Christ and 
that of Mithra that Christians attributed them 
to the subtle malevolence of evil demons. The 
religion spread rapidly among the freedmen and 
soldiers, but also attracted the educated and the 
officials, and found favour with princes. Its close- 
knit organization, with its official priests and its 
ascending grades of illumination, kept believers 
together in the manner of the Christian rites. It 
owed much of its hold over the West to the moral 
element which its mysteries embodied. It instilled 
into its votaries a higher aim in life and a better 
hope in death than any other form of pagan creed. 
The conversion of Constantine, however, gave it 
its deathblow. Like other heathen cults, it lingered 
on to the end of the 4th cent., revived a little in 
the intervening time through the restoration of the 
forbidden gods by Julian, who himself entertained 
a religious veneration for the sun. It may be ob- 
served that Mithraism never took any great hold on 
Greek lands where the Greek culture had been 
long establislied. It is found in contact with 
Hellenism chielly on the outskirts of Greek civiliza- 
tion in the East and on the Danube (see, further, 
art. MITIIHAISM). 

In conclusion, we may note that the evil asso- 
ciated with the darkness left its mark on some 
usages connecte<l with the administration of the 
Roman State. The taking of augury, v.hich pre- 
ceded the carrying out of many public alt'airs, 
originally took jilace at dawn. It was just as the 
.sun was rising that Romulus saw the flight of 
eagles which gave him the kingship. No public 
business was valid unless conducted between sun- 
rise and sunset — neither meetings of assemblies 
or of the Senate, -lor the administration of justice. 
Cicero reproached Mark Antony for having carried 
through decrees of the Senate after the sun h.ad 
sunk ('Senatus consulta vespertina,' PhU. iii. 
2i). Something of the name usage can be seen 



in Greece, but the rules there were never so 

rigid. 

I,irER.4TcnR.— All information in matters connected with this 
article can be tound in a few publications, in whirh the resnlta 
of recent investigation arc put to;^ethcr. W. H. Roscher's 
Lexicon, now approaching completion, is invaluable. O. 
Griippe, Gricchischf. Mythotogic vnd Relujumsqeifchichte, 
Munich, 1906, is important on the (ireek side, and G. Wissowa, 
Religion und KuUim der ROmei-', do. 1912, on the Roman. 
Roman religion has been interestingly treated by W. Warde 
Fowler, Roman Festivals, London, li)OS, and Heliijiuus Ex- 
perience 0/ the Roman People, do. UUl. Many illustrations of 
the topics here treated will be found in GB3, 

J. S. Reid. 

LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Hindu).— The 
great contr.ast between light and darkness with 
their life-stirring and life-suppressing influence has 
naturally in all ages taken deep root in the human 
mind, which welcomed the reappearance of light 
as the release from the night or the long darkness 
of winter, and transformed the contrast of light 
and dark into one of life and death, freedom and 
bondage, good and evil, virtue and sin. The great 
representative of light, life, freedom, and goodness 
was to the mind of ancient India Usas, the goddess 
of dawn, and her rival Rfitri, the night, or, in a 
sense more averse to human life, tama-i, the dark- 
ness. The imperishability of light found its ex- 
pres.sion in the personification of Aditi, which other 
scholars explain merely as eternity (cf. Hillebrandt, 
Ved. Myth. iii. 105 fl'.). 

Usas is not only a goddess of the dawn of every 
day ; in many songs that glorify her reappearance 
the turn of the year is alluded to, and Usius means 
the first dawn of the New Year (cf. A. Ludwig, 
Dcr Jiir/veda, Prague, 1876-88, iv. p. xi, vi. 173" ; 
Hillebrandt, Ved. Myth. ii. 2511.). Usas is partly 
the Ostara of the Rigveda poems (F. Kluge, Zeit- 
srhrift fiir deiitsche Wortfor-irlmnq, ii. [1901] 42). 
She brings back the sun, the fire, the sacrifice 
\vhich has been discontinued during the decaying 
period of the year ; sometimes she is .also called 
suri/a or eknst/tkri, and under the nan. ;■ ■'uiravid she 
became the mother of the two heavenly dogs, the 
sarameyas. 

The Indians divide the year into two period.s, the 
Uttarayana, when the sun proceeds towards the 
north, and the Daksinayana, when he goes towards 
the south, the light half of the year being sacred 
to the gods, the dark half to the dead. Sometimes 
(e.g., Satapatha Bralimcma, II. i. 3. 1) it is said 
that spring, summer, and the rains are the god- 
seasons, while autumn, winter, and the cold season 
are the /xVarnA-seasons, sacred to the nKtnes. We 
may begin the New Year with the winter solstice 
or with Easter time, according as we lay greater 
stress upon an astronomical or a practical point of 
view. Indian writers also oscillated between the 
two possibilities, and faced the problem in the 
same manner as their brothers did among Teutonic, 
Slavic, and Italian tribes (cf., e.g., V. M. Miiller, 
Contributions to the Science of Mythology, London, 
1897, ii. 715). The Vedio authors speak of the 
dark half of the year as tamos, and originally 
meant thereby the winter, the personification of 
which was Vrtra, not the retainer of the heavenly 
rain, as has generally been believed, but the demon 
of winter, who was slain by India, and who regains 
the light and sets free the streams bound liy the 
fetters of frost and ice. This idea was inherited 
from prehistoric times, and formed under the 
influences of a more northern climate than that of 
the Indian plains. The farther the Aryan tribes 
advanced towards the south, and the longer they 
settled under a milder climate, the less that idea 
harmonized with I he surroundings and the actual 
climate ; the notion of tamits was transferred to 
the really dark season of India — the rains; and 
the residue of the past and the "erni of a new 
time were thus equally precipitated iu the ancient 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Iranian) 



61 



literature. In later times the Holi festival seems 
to liave absorbed most of the customs connected 
witli tlie New Year festival, tliough even now the 
celebration of the Saiiikranti is by no means 
forgotten in India ; and the sjilendid spectacle of 
the bathing festival held about the 12th of Janu- 
ary on the banks of the Ganges in 15unares will 
not be forgotten by any one who has happened to 
witness it. 

Literature. — A. Hillebrandt, Vedische Mythologie, Breslau, 
1891-1902, ii. 25 ff. , 77 ff., iii. ISS ff. . 204 ff., Die Sonnwe7id/este in 
Att'lndien, Erlan^en, 1889 ( = Romanische Forschungen, v.), 
p. 299 ff. ; H. H. Wilson, 'Religious Festivals of the Hindus' 
(IForto, London, 1802-77, ii. 158 ff., on the Uttarayana ; 222 ff., 
on the Holi rites). On the Holi festival : W. Crooke, PR", 
Westminster, 1896, ii. 313 ff., Thintjs Indian, London, 1900, 
p. 211; J. A. Duljois, Hindu Manners,. Customs, and Cere- 
monies-, do. 1899, p. 575 ff.; NateSa S^stn, Hindu Feasts 
and Ceremonies, with an Introduction bv H. K. Beauchanjp, 
Madras, 1903, p. 115 ff. ('The Hindu New' Year's Day'); F. S. 
Growse, Stathurd^, Allahabad, 1883, passim. 

A. Hillebrandt. 

LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Iranian).— The 
antithesis between light and darkness among the 
Iranians was closely connected with the antagonism 
between Ahura Mazda and Ahriman. This feature 
attracted the attention of Plutarch, who says (rfc 
Is. et Oslr. xlvi.) that Ahura Mazda was born of 
purest light and Angra Mainyu of darkness, so 
that Tov fjL^v ioinivat (purl [xaKiaTo. tu}V alirdrjTujyj rdp 5i 
i/MTraXtp cKdrtf) Kai d7i'oi{i (cf. Porphyry, Vit. Pythag., 
p. 41, ed. A. Nauck, Leipzig. 1860; Hippol. Eefut. 
i. 2, iv. 43; A. Rapp, ZDMG xi.x. [1865] 48 f.). 
This view recurs not only in the late ' Ulamil-i- 
Islam (tr. E. Blochet, RUR xxxvii. [1898] 41) and 
in al-Shahrastani's Kitdb al-milal w'al-nihal (tr. 
T. Haarbriicker, Halle, 1850-51, i. 275), but also in 
the Armenian writers (e.g. Thomas Artsruni, i. 3), 
while Dio Chrysostom {Orat. xxxvi. ) goes so far as 
to make the assertion — not thus far substantiated 
elsewhere^that, in order to create, Ahura Mazda 
had to surrender njiuch of his light. 

In the Gatbas we find the striking statement 
that Ahura, ' well-working, created both light(s) 
and darkness(es) ' (Ys. xliv. 5). This at once re- 
calls the passage in Is 45', ' I [the Lord] form the 
light, and create darkness,' liut it seems advis- 
able to assume, with J. H. Moulton (Early Zorons- 
trianism, London, 1913, p. 291), that the Iranian 
and the Hebrew developments are only iKira.llel 
and not connected (cf., further, E. Stave, Eitifliiss 
des Parsismus auf das Judentum, Haarlem, 1898, 
pp. 46 fl'., 64 ft'., and the 'Semitic and Egyptian' 
section below, p. 65% note 3). 

Be the origin of the two what it may — and the 
true exidanation of the G.athic passage doubt- 
less is, as Moulton maintains, that it is the 
protest of Zarathushtra against Magian dualism — 
light is, as is but natural, associated with Ahura 
Mazda and his supporters, while darkness is con- 
nected with Angra Slainyu and his rabble. It was 
Ahura Mazda who in tlie beginning filled the 
blessed re.alms (XKaSrd) with light ( Ys. xxxi. 7), and 
in the realms of light (raoccbiS) beatitude will be 
beheld by him whose thought is right (Ys. .xxx. 1), 
while the light of the sun is one of the things 
that glorify Ahura Mazda (Ys. i. 11). Apart from 
the passage alreadj' noted, darkness (tcmah) is 
mentioned only once in the Gathas, in 'Ys. xxxi. 20, 
where it refers to the blackness of hell (on the 
blackness of liell see Moulton, p. 172 f. ; F. .Spiegel, 
Erdn. Alterthumsktindc, Leipzig, 1871-78, ii. 121). 

In the Younger Avesta the dualism between 
light and darkness appears in full vigour, so that 
Spiegel is amply justified (ii. 20 11'.) in divid- 
ing his discussion of the Iranian theologj' and 
deraonology into 'the light side' and 'the d.ark 
side' respectively. A phrase which constantly 
recurs in beginning the laudation of all good deities 
is ' for his magliiiicence and his glory ' (ahe raya 



xvarr.nanghaca ; for an admirable discussion of the 
latter word see E. Wilhelm, ' Hvareno,' in Jubilee 
Vol. of the Sir Jamsctjee Jejccbhoy Zarthnshli 
Madressa, Bombay, 1914). Light was created liy 
Ahura Mazda (Ys. v. 1, xxxvii. 1), and is one of 
his prerogatives (}"«. xii. 1); hence prayer is made 
to behold ' the creative light of the creative 
Creator ' ( Ys. Iviii. 6), and the light of the sun 
praises him (Ys. Ixiv. 6). Together with Asha, 
Ahura Mazda created ' the shining light and sunny 
abodes ' ( Yt. iii. 1 f.), so that the abodes of Asha are 
light (Ys. xvi. 7). In these abodes the souls of the 
righteous dead dwell (Ys. xvi. 7; cf. Ixviii. 11; 
Afrinakdn, i. 18 ; Vend. xix. 36), for paradise 
(vahiita ahu ; see art. LiFE AND Ueath [Iranian]) 
is light (Ys. Ixii. 6, Ixviii. 11), and, as such, receives 
worship ( Visprat, xxiii. 1 ; Sih roca/c, ii. 27). Indeed, 
'light' (raocao) is a synonym for 'heaven' (Ys. 
xix. 6), another synonym being 'the shining 
house of praise' (raoxina gard-nvidiia \_Yt. x. 124, 
xix. 44]) to which worship is paid (Sih rocak, ii. 
30). Still another synonym is ' the light without 
beginning' (annyra raocdo [Ys. Ixxi. 9; Yt. xxii. 
15; Vetid. xi. 1 f., 13, xix. 35; Pursihilhd, xxxviii.]), 
which is likewise an object of veneration (Gah, iii. 
0, Sih rocak, ii. 30; cf. Spiegel, ii. 17 f.). Accord- 
ingly, in the PatSt Irani (ed. E. K. Antia, Pdzand 
'Texts, Bombay, 1909, p. 145, tr. J. Darmesteter, 
Zend-Avesta, Paris, 1892-93, iii. 178), the righteous 
man hopes to attain to 'the place of light' (roSn- 
,jde), not to ' the place of daikness ' (tdrik-jdH). 

The good creation is given the epithet of 
' bright' — Asha(y,s-. v. 4), the Amesha Spentas and 
their paths (Yt. xiii. 82, 84, xix. 15, 17), Ashi (Yt. 
xvii. 1, 6), Apftm Napat (Yt. xix. 52; Sih rocak, 
ii. 30), the 'glory' (xvarcnah [17. xix. 35]), 
and especially Yima, whose conventional epithet 
xSaUta ('shining') is so completely blended with 
his name that in modern Persian he is known only 
as Jamshid. 

The sun, moon, and stars are bidden to give 
light (Vend. xxi. 5, 9, 13), and the light of the 
moon is lauded (Nydyiin, iii. 7), while so great are 
the blessings of the light of the sun that, if the 
sun no longer rose, ' the demons would destroy 
everything that is in the seven regions [of the 
world], and the spiritual angels would tind no 
tarrying place and no abiding place in this corpor- 
eal existence' (Yt. vi. 3; Nydyiin, i. 13; cf. in 
general JS'ydyiin, i.-iii. ; Yt. vi.-viii.). Indeed, 
the fairest of the forms of Ahura Mazda arc the 
earthly and the heavenly light, i.e. the fire and 
thesun(yis. xxxvi. 6, Iviii. 8); ami in the palace 
which Ahura Mazda built for Milhra there is 
neither night nor darkness (Yt. x. 50). 

Darkness is a .special attribute of hell (Vend. iii. 
35; Aogcmadaecd, xxviii.), for which 'darkness 
without beginning' is a synonym (Yt. xxii. 33 ; cf. 
Spiegel, ii. 18 f.). The demons are 'spawn of 
darkness ' (or, perhaps, ' possess the seed of dark- 
ness,' ?c»(a.?c!'fl?'rt [17. vi. 4 ; Kydyisn,i. 14; Vend. 
viii. SO]), .and seek refuge in darkness (Is. Ivii. 
18), or hide in tlie earth (cr;»a;'C-7»; {Ys. ix. 15; 
Yt. xix. 81 ; Westergaard I'rag. iv. 3]) or in caverns 
(Vend. iii. 7, 10) — a phrase which may possibly 
point to sui'vivals of an old chthonic cult (cf. 
Moulton, pp. 57, 128 f., 132, 399). Properly enough, 
therefore, divine aid is sought to resist ' darkness, 
woe, and suHering' (yis. Ixxi. 17; cf. Nydyiin, i. 
14). 

Turning to the Pablavi texts, we are told that 
' the region of light is the place of Auharmazd, 
which they call " endl&ss light " ' (BnndahiSn, i. 2), 
and that the plaie of the Ame.'^ha Spentas is 'in 
that best existence of light' (Ddlistdn-i-D~intk, 
Ixxiv. 2), while Arta-I-Viifif, when in the presence 
of Ahura Mazda, perceived oidy brilliant light 
(Arta-l-Viraf Ndmak, ci.), and the radiance of 



62 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Semitic and Egyptian) 



Zarnthuslitia within his iiintlicr, during the thiee 
days before his birth, wius so },'reat as to iliumine 
liis I'atlier's wliole villase {Dinkar(, V. ii. 2, vil. ii. 
o6-58). 

Aocordin<; to the same texts, hell is full of 
darkness (DutUtdn-t-Dimk, xxvii. 2, 6, xxxiii. 2, 4, 
xxxvii. 28, 45), so intense that it ' is fit to grasp 
with the hand' (Bundahiin,-s.-K\n\. 47 ; cf. D'mai- 
Maindg-'i-Xru(,v'\\.i\). This 'endlessly dark ' is 
the abode of Angrji Mainyu (liunilnhiin, i. 3), and 
when, in his fruitless endeavour to destroy the 
light of Ahura Mazda, he emerged from hell, he 
made the world at mid-day as dark as midnight, 
returning, after his defeat, to the darkness, where 
he formed many demons (46. i. 10, iii. 14). In 
fact, ' the most steadfast quality of the demon 
himself is darkness, the evil of winch is so complete 
that they shall call the demons also those of a 
gloomy race' {Da(istdti-i-Din}k, xxxvii. 85). In 
contrast, although sun, moon, and stars will con- 
tinue to exist after the renovation of the world, 
they will no longer be necessary, ' for the world is 
a dispenser of all light, and all creatures, too, are 
brilliant' {iO. xxxvii. 126). The power of the 
demons during the darkness has already been noted. 
Therefore, ' w hen in the dark it is not allowable to 
eat fooil ; for the demons and fiends seize u)>ou 
one-third of the wisdom and glo,ry of him who eats 
food in the dark' (Sat/ast-la-Sdi/ast, ix. 8; two- 
thirds are taken if one also eats with unwashed 
hands^ ; and the eighteenth section of the lost 
Sutlcar A'ns/.' of the .'Vvesta dealt, among other 
topics, with ' the hussy who spills anj'thing after 
sunset, or who scatters a morsel of food to the 
north, at night, without a recital of the Ahunavair ' 
(Dinkarl, IX. xix. 2). To the same category of 
concepts belongs a short Parsi poem contained in 
the second volume of the collection of Kivayats 
of Darab Hormazdyfir (ed. M. E. Unwalla, 207. 
19-208. 4 ; the edition is not yet published, but the 
writer has a set of the proofs through the courtesy 
of the editor and J. J. Modi). According to this 
' Rivayat on the Lighting of a Lamp,' the laniii- 
liglit drives away all demons, and it adds : 

' From that light of the Fire the world is bright, since it is 
hostile to the demons of Abrinian ; if there were not always the 
li^ht of the Fire, there would not be a single man in the world.' 
This little poem is iumu'd)at«ly followed, it may be remarked, 
by another of nine disti'-hs, recounting the miraculous cure of 
a dying child by the lighting of a lamp on the roof of the house. 

The pro'olem of the relation of light and dark- 
ness was even more vital than the extant Iranian 
texts would leatl one to suppose ; for it gave rise 
to philosoiihical speculations which materially 
helped to form the leading Zoroastrian sects. 

Al-Shahrastaui goes so far as to declare (i- 275) that ' all pro- 
blems of the Magians turn upon two main points ; why the li*,.-ht 
mingled with darkness, and why the light cleansed itself from 
darkness; they posit the mingling as the beginning, and the 
cleansing as the aim.' 

The Gayomartian sect maintained, according to 
al-Shahrastani, that light had no l)eginniug, but 
that darkness was created. Whence, was their 
problem — whether from liglit, which, however, 
could not produce anything even partially evil, or 
from something else, though there was nothing 
which shared with light the properties of creation 
and eternity. Their rather lame solution was that 
Ahura Mazda tliought to himself: 'If I had an 
opponent, how would he be formed?' I'rom this 
thought, which did not harmonize with the good- 
ness of light, Angni Mainyu was produced. The 
mingling of light and darkness was due to the fact 
that the light gave men, before they were em- 
bodied, the choice of degradation to the realms of 
Angra Mainyu or battle with him. Tliey chose 
corporeal existence and battle, on condition that 
they were aided by the light to eventual victory and 
to tlie final re.^urrci tion at bis defeat. 

The /arvanite acct held that the light produced 



a luimlier of creatures ot bright. di\iiie nature, the 
most im|iortant of whom was Zarvan (Time), who, 
after murmuring prayers for a son during 9999 
years, entertained the thought: ' Tercliance this 
world is nothing.' From this evil doubt Angra 
Mainyu was born, and from Zarvan's wisdom 
sprang Ahura Mazda. There were a number of 
minor speculations among this sect — c.ff., that 
Angra Mainyu was originally in heaven, but 
meditated upon treachery untrl, like .Satan, he 
fell. The Mashites thought that a portion of light 
had transformed itself into darkness. 

Tlie Zarathushtrians (Zoroastrians) entertained, 
according to al-Shahrastitni, the views of light and 
darkness which we would naturally infer from the 
Avesta and Pahlavi texts. Bothlight and dark- 
ness had existed from the beginning. tJood and 
evil, iiurity and impurity, etc., had arisen from the 
mingling of light and darkness ; and, had there 
been no such mingling, the world would not have 
existed. God was the source of both (cf. Vs. xhr. 
5, cited above), and in His wisdom had mingled 
them ; but light alone is real, darkness being, in 
fact, only its necessary antithesis ; and, since they 
are antithetic, they must war against one another 
until the light sliall be victorious over darkness. 

Thus in Zoroastrianism the problem of the rela- 
tion between liglit and darkness becomes part of 
the greater question of the origin of good and evil ; 
and from this point of view the antithesis of liglit 
and darkness is found again — whet her independent 
or derived — in several Gnostic systems (cf. ERE, 
vol. vi. p, 238 f.), as well as in Mandseanisni 
(.v. J. H. \V. Brandt, l\[(tndiiisi:he Religion, Leipzig, 
ISS9, p. 39 ff.) and Manicha-ism (K. Ke.ssler, FRE^ 
xii. [1903] 205 ff.). See art. Mazand.\raN. 

LiTERATrRE.— In addition to the references given in the art., 
other citations from the Avesta may be galherc-d from C. Bar- 
tholomae, AUlfan. Worterhtich, Strassburg, 1904, s.vv. ' Raok-,' 
' Raoxsna-,' ' Raovah-,' and 'Taflra-,' 'Teniah-.' etc. (coll. 14&7- 
1492, 64S-C0O). Ko special treatise on the subject has as yet 
been written. LOUI.S H. GraV.' 

LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Semitic and 
Egyptian). — 1. Peoples and period.— Babylonian 
(A.ssyrian), Egyptian, and Hebrew beliefs on the 
subject of light and darkness may all be taken 
together. Although in course of time they became 
widely divergent, at the outset and for a consider- 
able period tiiej- showed many points of similarit.\' 
— a fact to be ascribed to the contact and the 
common origin, in part if not in whole, of the 
jieoples inhabiting the countries of the Near East. 
For the Babylonians and the Hebrews this aflinity 
is generally admitted, both being of the Semitic 
stock. Further, in the words of Clieyne, ' a primi- 
tive contact between the early Egyj)tian race and 
the Babylonians has been made eitrcnicly proli 
able by Ilomuiel. Wiiickler, too, remarks with 
justice that the cultus of the Horus-cliild belongs 
to the same religion as the Babylonian, and is in 
this sense Semitic.'' Sayce, while tracing many 
analogies of the same kind between Babylonian 
and Lgyjitian beliefs, takes a further step, and 
sees in " the triumph of the gods of light and order 
over the monsters of chaos not only the birth of 
the present creation, but also the theological 
victory of the Semite over the Sumerian.'- AVitli- 
out going so far as this, other scholars admit that 
the mythological compositions of the Babylonians 
were derived from Sumerian sources.^ 'i'he upper 
limit of the period to be considered may therefore 
Ije placed in Sumerian times, about the nii<ldle of the 

1 T. K. Chejne, Bi'</.' rruhUm-i, London, 1901, p. 2(10. 
Linguistic aftiiiilics are worked out by (', J. llall ui the 
llttprecht Annictreary yohnw, l.eipzig, liHtjl. For 'darkness' 
-ce p. 34, and for * light,' pp. a" f., 47 f., and f.l. 

- A. H. Savce, The Heliiiions of Ancient Eijtjpl and Bahi/lunia 
(Clifford Lecturee), Edinburgli, IlHi-.!, p. 496. 

' I,. W. Kini.- and 11. It. ll.ill. Eimiit nnit ll'if(<'rll ASia in l/lt 
Light 0} Hecent Dittoetriet, Loudon, 1807, p. £20. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Semitic and Egyptian) 



63 



fourth nullenniiim B.C., and the lower limit may with 
propriety he lixed al)Out the time of the Hehrew 
Exile, before the iiilluence of I'ersia, followed by 
Greece, could have been felt.' Throughout this 
period of three millennia the predominant feature 
of religion in Babylonia and Egypt is the cult of 
the sun-god. We should tlierefore expect to find 
in the records that have survived nmch that is 
cognate to at least the lirst member of our subject. 
Owing to syncretistic tendencies always present, 
and the ease vith which those ancient peoples 
tolerated antinomies in belief, no uniform presenta- 
tion of their views about light and darkness can 
be given. 

2. Various relationships of light and darkness. 
—While the words ' light ' and ' darkness ' appear 
to stand in a co-ordinate relation, in reality they 
are contrasted terms, to be compared with ' day ' 
and ' night,' ' lite ' and ' death,' ' good ' and ' evil.' 
In all these cases the co-ordinate relation holds 
good in the sense that light and darkness, etc., 
can be regarded as complementary terms, convey- 
ing the idea of the whole— e.g'., the daily round, the 
.sum-total of existence, and the ethical contents of 
life. The exceptional view whereby both light 
and darkness are traced to the same creative 
source (as in Is 45') may also be brought into this 
connexion. In general, however, the relation be- 
tween light and darkness continues to be regarded 
in Semitic thought as adversative, slightly veiling 
a dualism which perhaps has been iniierited from 
pre-historic times, and which is not resolved 
(Jahwism excluded), even theoretically, into a 
monism until the limit of our period has been 
passed.^ We have throughout to reckon with 
that ' Oriental resignation to the contrasts in life ' 
which marked all the peoples of the Ancient East.' 
The theory that prevailed might at best be termed 
'optimi-iti'c dualism.'* Witli special reference to 
light and darkncs^ there was a contest present in 
the beginning (cosmology), and this is daily and 
yearly renewed, with every day and night, every 
spring and autumn (or summer and winter), and it 
may even extend through the course of the world 
cycle.* While light and darkness have, therefore, 
each a separate kingdom, the one being for day 
and for life, the other for niglit and for death, 
there is evidence in the development of religious 
thought in Egjpt of an in\asion of each upon the 
other's domain, resulting in a n)easure of fusion. 
This is concisely summed uj) by saying that the 
solar cult was osirianized and the Osiris myth was 
ceiestializcd." A subtle theory of a similar kind 
has been formulated for Babylonia, as an instance 
of which we may quote the representation of the 
sun as under-world divinity, ' because in his light 
the stars disappear and perish.'' There is much 
less warrant for such crossing over of the ideas of 
light and darkness in Babylonian thought. Re- 
garding the ' Astral Theory ' as a whole, it may be 
remarked that, were it accepted, it would gre.-itly 
extend the possibilities of our subject. It requires, 
however, more agreement than at present exists as 
to the date of the origin of scientific astronomy 
among the Babylonians before its findings can be 
used with any mea.sure of confidence. 

3. No science of light. — Judging from present 

1 M. Jastrow, Aspects nf Rrli'giovs Belief and Practif^ in 
Babylonia and Assyria, New York and London, Wll, p. 00 IT. 

2 Cf. ERE, art. 'Dualism (Iranian)' and ' Dualism (Jewish),' 
vol. V. p. lllff. 

^ J. H. Breasted, Development of Religion ami Thought in 
Ancient Eoypt, London, 1912, p. 357. 

i A. Jeremias, Die Panlinliiilonisten : Der allc Orient iind 
die (igypti^che Religion", Leipzi;::, 1907, p. 23. 

'• See ERE, art ' Ages of the World (Batjlonian),' \o\. i. p. 

<i Ureasled, p. 149 £f. 

' A. Jeremias, The Old Testament in t)ie Light 0/ the Ancient 
East, London, 1811,1. 30. 



data, the likelihood is th.-it the peoples of antiquity 
were not conscious of the fact tliat the universe 
is uuder the dominion of natural law. Theirs was 
' tlie cosmography of appearances'' — a view of 
the world resting at the empirical stage. They 
had no scientific theory of light ; ilarkncss w as not 
merely the absence of light. Both were ' material 
entities ' : - 

' The matter of light issues forth from its place and spreads 
over the earth ; at night it withdraws, and darkness comes 
forth from its place, each in a hidden, m.vsterious way.'^ 
The ' substantiality of darkness '* may be sped 
ally remarked in Ex 10'-' 14-". A higher concep- 
tion of the quality of light was indeed reached. 
According to Helm, in the later paits of the OT 
light is used as a symbol of deity because it is the 
finest and most immaterial substance known, and 
there is no danger of corporeal form being attached 
to it. 

'The deity as light gives the transition to the deity as 
spirit.' 5 

Bearing in mind that the peoples of the Ancient 
East were accustome<l to concrete views of what 
are accepted by us as abstract qualities, we shall 
understand how they received the phenomena of 
light and darknet^s mainly accorcling to their 
phj'sical eflect-s and their bearing upon life. Light 
was of service to them ; darkness formed a hind- 
rance. This was transferred to the realm of feeling: 
light they rejoiced in ; darkness they dreaded. 
Love of the light and hatred of the darkness lie at 
the root of many of the myths of antiquity, and 
are evident in the metaphorical usajje of the two 
terms. By an inevitable transition light is associ- 
ated with warmth, and darkness is linked with 
cold. This applies to the cycle of the year, which 
is of more importance in ancient belief and practice, 
as appears in the Tammuz-cult, than the cycle of the 
day. From warmth again there is an easy jiassage 
to life and growth, and from cold to decay and death. 
4. Light and darkness as associated with 
deities. — Like great natural forces, such as thunder 
and tempest, light and darkness were seen t« lie 
beyond human control, and thus they came to be 
associated with deity or deities, and with beings 
more than human. Light is the creation of good 
gods, althoug'u it has also a hurtful side, when 
found in conjunction with the scorching heat of 
summer, and when bound up with lightning and 
fire. Darkness is viewed less as a creation of the 
gods than as an environment for monsters and evil 
spirits, who could not exereise their baneful power 
apart from darkness. Still there are gods speciallj' 
associated with darkness, both in Babylonia and 
in Egypt. Many deities bear names and attributes 
compounded with words signifying ' light,' and 
their temples are similarly termed (e.g. E-Babbara, 
' the shining house ' [.sun-temple at Sippar]). In 
addition to Sliamasli, the sun-god (and other 
deities who in their original function are merely 
aspects of the sun), Nannar or Sin, the moon-god, 
and Ishtar, ' the light of the heavens,' the foremost 
place must here be given to Marduk or Merodach 
(Amar-Ud, or Amar-Uduk), 'son of the sun,' or 
' child of the day,' as being the god of light by 
pre-eminence. He, too, is generally regarded as a 
solar deity, although an attempt has been made to 
prove that he is independent of the sun, being 
simply the god of light.* Although appearing 
at the summit of the Babylonian pantheon, he 

1 G. Schiaparelli, Astronomy in the Old Testanicnl, Oxford, 
1905, p. '22. 

2 T. K. Chevne. Traditions and Beliefs of Ancient Israel, 
London, 1907, p. 10. 

3 S. R. Driver, The Look of Genesis with Introduction and 
Notes'', London, 1909, p. (1. 

4 JE, art. ' I>arkness.' 

6 J. Hehn, Die biblische und rfu' babj/lonische Gotlesidee, 
Leipzig, 1913. p. 292. 

e H. Zinmiern and H. Wlnckler, Die Keilinschrijttn und das 
Alte Testament', Berlin, 1902-OS, p. 370 n. 



64 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Semitic and Egyptian) 



certainly did not. hold undisputed sway, either 
at the bo;,'iiinini; or afterwards, and the fiKht 
between li^'ht and darkness, typilie<i by Marduk 
(or Bell and the Pragon, was continued down 
the ages.' How this should he is perhaps best 
explained on the theory of Itadau,^ who con- 
tends that Marduk is the god of light considered 
not as an illuniinative power, but as a life-giving 
principle, which appears in the warmth of the 
spring. His light with Tiainat is a light of the 
light, i.e. the warmth, against the darkness, i.e. 
the cold. By this line of argument Alarduk 
comes into relation to the Tanimuz - Adonis 
(and Ishtar) cycle of mytlis, and is also to be 
placed in opposition to Nabu, the god of the 
darker half of the year.' Viewed as a solar deity, 
then, Marduk stands for the sungod of spring, 
who brings ' blessing and favours after the sorrow.s 
and tribulations of the stormy season.'* Before 
Marduk was exalted to the chief place, Ann, 
Ninib, Enlil, and Ea fullilled a similar role in the 
myths of creation,^ and in later times Ashur arose 
to dispute the glory. The nearest approach to a 
god of darkness, energizing in the world of nature, 
is Raniman, or Addu (Adad, in West Semitic), ' the 
thunderer.'" The darkness which he causes (crj., 
in the Flood Story, ii. 46 f . ) is relieved by the light- 
ning, in virtue of which he ha.yy of'W title to be 
regarded as a god of light ahipi/rist, i'.\ him may 
be classed Girru (Gibil) = Nuskvts with un\\f fire,' 
whose symbol, a lighted lamp, i%ction of the '4th 
cent. B.C.s iealt, among o 

Of the evil spirits that love trtfe narkne.s.^, men- 
tion may be made of the seien evil demons who, 
aided by certain of the great gods, were thoiight 
to be responsible for the darkening of the moon by 
eclipse or storm, and even for the disappearance of 
the orb of night at the end of the month. 

' From city to city darkness work they, 
A hurricane, which mightily limits in the heavens, are they. 
Thick clouds, that brin^^ darkness in heaven, are they, 
GuBts of wind rising, which cast gloom over the brig:ht day, 
are they. . . .' 9 

In the official cults of Egypt sun-worship was 
all-important. Less is said about the moon, 
although itfindsa place.'" Within his own domain, 
which is the upper world, Ra (Amon-Ba), the sun, 
figures as a life-giving power, a set-off to the 
equally great power of death and darkness in the 
under world, to which so much inqiortance was 
attached in Egypt. Here, it would seem, light 
and darkness are concomitants of the fuller notions 
of life and death. AVe must include in this even 
the apparent exception of the ' Aton ' cult of the 
XVIIIth dynasty (in the rei^.'n of H<hnaton). In 
the 'Solar universalism ' of that period, which 
finds expression in a series of magnificent hymns," 
while the whole activity and beneficence of the 
sun are rehearsed, its life-giving power is still in 
the forefront. In Egypt tlie part of Marduk is 
taken by Horns the elder.'- An equivalent to 
Ishtar is found in Ilathor, who by some scholars is 

1 T. O. Pinches, The. Old Testament i« the Light of the 
Historical Records and Legends of Assi'ria and Babi/lonia^, 
liondon, 1908, p. 63U t. 

* H. Radau, Bel, the Christ of Ancient Times, Chicago, 1908, 
p. 46 f. (with reference to the same writer's Creation Stort/, do., 

1902, p. 5 1). 

^ ERE, art. 'Babylonians and Assyrians,' vol. ii. p. 312'*: 
Jastrow regards him rather as a water-deitv {op. cit. p. 97 I.). 

* Jastrow, p. 39. 5 lb. p. loi] f. 

" L. W. King, Babylonian Religion and Mythology^, London, 

1903, p. 130. 

' ERK, art. * Babylonians and Assyrians,' \ ol. ii. p. 313*. 

8 A. H. Sayce, in Hilprecht Anniversary Vidiane, p. 79fT. 

9 R. W. u'o;,'ers, Ctnieiform Parallels to the Old Testament, 
New York, imi;, p. m t. ■ cf. Jastrow, pp. 215, 333 ff. 

'** A. II. Savce, The Religion of Ancient Kgiipt, Edinburgh, 
1013, i>. 130fl. ; O. Maspero, The Dawn of Civilization", 
London, 1896. p. 92 f. 

"See Ex/tT xxii. (1011) 485. For a revised tr. of the most 
huuortant ol Ikhnatou's hymns see Breasted, op. cit. p. 324 S. 

>> Styce, p. 1(16. 



(ailed 'the goddess of light.'' Spocilic gods of 
darkness appear in Set- (or Set-Apopi), and in one 
member of the Hermopolitan ennead, Kek (fem. 
Keket).^ (For the gods of the under world see 
below, § 7.) In Egypt the demons of darkness were, 
like those of Babylonia, an awful power for evil to 
the living, and conspicuously active in the realm 
of the dead.'' 

The Hebrew conception of God is frequently 
conveyed by means of language (much of which is 
metaphorical and poetical) drawn from the realm 
of light (see Hehn, loc. cit. ; cf. Ex 24'», Ps 104-, 
Is 10" 51* 60'-'- "• =», Ezk I's- •^, Ho3 6').' But, 
while light is readily employed as a symbol of 
Jahweh, from first to last there is no idea of iden- 
tifying Him with this manifestation of nature (as 
in the case of Marduk). While God is conceived 
of as luminous above measure. He is at the same 
time thought o* as hidden, and His ways are 
reckoned to be mysterious. For this reason dark- 
ness, the 'natural antithesis' of light, also enters 
into the imagery of the OT (Ex 20=', Dt 4" 5'", 
1 K 8'=, Ps 18"- '■ 97-, Am 5'», Zeph l'').« 

It is surprising that, though the Hebrews were 
surrounded by races more or less allied to them, 
who shared the Babylonian and Egyptian belief 
in demons and evU spirits, hardly a trace of 
such powers of darkness is evident in the religious 
literature of ancient Israel.' 

5. Light and darkness in cosmology. — Accord- 
ing to the main version of the Babylonian Story of 
Creation, Marduk, the god of light, prevails over 
Tiamat, the personification of chaos, of which 
darkness presumably forms part.* Sayce finds in 
Mumrau (tablet I. 4) ' the flood,' or chaos, the 
equivalent of 'the "darkness" which in Gn Pis 
said to have been "upon the face of the deep.'"' 
In both the Hebrew and the Babylonian accounts 
of what was in the beginning, darkness is reckoned 
as primeval, i.e. before the cosmos. It is an ele- 
ment not to be reckoned as good. While this may 
be asserted of darkness as diffused through space, 
it does not hold true of darkness as a division of 
time, when darkness means no more than night 
(Gn l'-*).'" According to Hebrew co-smology, one 
function of the heavenly orbs was to divide the 
light from the darkness; 'and God saw that it 
was good ' (Gn l'« ; cf. Ps 104="). In the Babylonian 
account there is no mention of the creation of 
light, perhaps to be explained by the fact that 
Marduk is himself the god of light and conse- 
quently its creator" — a view which might well 
have been entertained in spite of the contradiction, 
as we see it, that the ' son of the sun ' is also made 
the creator of the sun and all the other orbs of 
light. In the Hebrew account light is given as 
the first act in the creation of the world, wrought 
by the word of God. This, Cheyne thinks, formed 
no part of the traditional Hebrew cosmogony, but 
is due to the priestly writer's reflective turn of 
mind.'' Be that as it may, this light, which is 
difiused through space, wherever darkness is not 
present, is evidently to be distinguished from the 
'lights' — sun, moon, and stars — in which light is, 
as it were, localized (Gn 1'*"). In Egypt there is 
no detailed account of creation. '^ Sayce'* and 

1 Sayce, p. 146. 

2 ERE, art. ' Dualism (Egyptian),' vol. v. p. 106'' ; Breasted, 
p. 40. 

3 Savce, p. 132. 4 Breasted, p. 290 ff. 
!> HDB, art. • Light,' vol. iii. p. 119. 

6 lb., art. ' Darknes--',' vol. i. p. 5f>9. 

' F. Delitzsch, Mehr Licht, Leipzig, 1907. p. 61. 

f* f'f. Berossus : to nav (ncdros Ka\ u3wp. 

" ERE, art. 'Cosmogony and Cosmology (Babylonian),' vol. 
iv. p. 1211''. 
"D UDB, art. 'Oosmogony.' vol. i. p. 502". 
" J. .Skinner, Uenegis(ICV), Edinburgh, 1910, p. 46. 
12 EBi, art. ' Light,' col. 27!).'i f. 
'» in>B, art. ' Kelision of E-\|)t,' vol. v. p. 179''. 
n Religion of Ancient Egypt, pp. 160, 2S8a. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS (Semitic and Egyptian) 



65 



Jeremias' remark on sectional parallels to the 
Babylonian main version. Different conceptions 
of the origin of light appear. According to one, 
primeval chaos is an ocean from which the sun-god 
(Atum) arises, bringing his own light with him ; 
according to another, light is laid np in the world- 
egg, waiting to be revealed. 

The story of a second creation would seem to be 
found in the narrative of Berossus, according to 
whom the animals apparently were not able to 
bear the light of the first creation, and a second 
was rendered necessary of such a kind that they 
could bear the light." 

Deutero-Isaiah's exalted conception {45'), where- 
by the creation of light and darkness is referred to 
the same divine source, is the logical outcome of 
monotheism.* It has an anthropomorphic parallel 
in the words ascribed to Ra : ' When I open my 
eyes, there is light ; when I close them, there is 
darkness.''' This, of course, applies to the daily 
renewal of light and its withdrawal every night. 

A reduction of earth to primeval conditions 
would involve among other things the extinction 
of light and by inference the return of the dark- 
ness of chaos (Jer 4^). An Egyptian myth, found 
in the Book of the Dead, represents Atum (see 
above) as defacing what he had made, bringing a 
return of water, as it was at the beginning. Over 
this Osiris (lord of darkness) is to rule.'' 

6. Light and darkness in human experience. — 
The cosmology, although relating to what is first 
in the order of things, is itself the product of re- 
flexion upon the phenomena of the present. The 
processes of thought which give origin to the myths 
connected with the world's beginning, and to 
mythology in general, may be placed in times 
antecedent to the Semitic period. The myths, 
having been invented and reduced to writing, 
were now exercising a certain counter-influence on 
current ideas. They were never absent from the 
background of thought, and in a way they hindered 
development. We may suppose that light and 
darkness, especially light, would in time have been 
accepted as in the course of nature, and have ceased 
to attract attention. But there came interruptions 
of the usual order — e.g., in the eclipse of moon or 
of sun — and on such occasions the mythology was 
speedily recalled. The cults also were of such a 
kind that they kept the mythology alive. The 
great hymns to Shamash, Sin, Ishtar, etc. ; the 
transcription and frequent recitation of funerary 
literature in Egypt, much of which had been 
handed down from very early times ; the festivals 
attending new moon, full moon, and the new year, 
and every occasion of national or local assembly — 
all must have exercised much influence towards 
the preservation of traditional beliefs. There was 
thus but slight opportunity of escaping from the 
legacy of the past. When the Egyptians looked 
upon the fiery clouds that attended the rising sun, 
their minds reverted to the pits of fire that were 
supposed to mark the eleventh division of the 
Tuat.' The multiform representations on cylinder 
seals of the orbs of night and day, especially of the 
figure of the sun-god rising between the mountains 
of the East, depicted with streams of light flowing 
from both sides, or with rays of light protruding 

1 OT in Light of the Anc. East, L 158ff., and, in more detail, 
Die Panbahyltmiaten, etc. 

2 T. G. Pinches, The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria, 
London, 1806, p. 42. 

^ EHE, art. ' Cosmogony and Cosmolo^ (Hebrew),' vol. iv. 
p. 155. Delitzsch, op. eit. p. 55, regards this vei-se as combat- 
ing; Old Persian dualism ; similarly Jeremias, OT in Light of 
the Anc. EaU, ii. 276. A different \new is taken by H. Gunkel, 
Schopfung und Chaos, Gbttingeu, 1S95, p. 136 n. 

■" Quoted in ERE iv. 22S ; cf. Sajce, Religion of Anc. Egypt, 
p. 218. 

5 E. Naville, The Old Egyptian Faith, London, 1909, p. 220 £f. 

6 K. A. W. Budge, The Egyptian Seaven and Hell, London, 
1806, iii. 178 t 

VOL. VIll. — 5 



from his shoulders,' give a viWd conception of the 
ideas constantly at work in the minds of the 
Semites and their neighbours. In addition to 
anthropomorphic representations of the deities of 
liglit, their symbols, especially tlie sun's disk, 
winged or unwinged, abounded both in Egypt and 
in Babylonia. More telling still were the obelisks 
and pyramids of Egypt, which were symbols of 
the sun in addition to their other uses. Temples 
to these deities of light were also present to bear 
their witness. Very impressive was the thought 
current so long in Egypt that the sun died every 
evening, and every morning was resurrected. In 
the interval he moved with difficulty through the 
realm of darkness, and, as a passive body, had to be 
lighted through the under world by other creatures 
of light.'' In Babylonia the phases of the moon 
seem to have attracted attention even more than 
the daily course of the sun. As king of the night. 
Sin (Nannar), ' the bright one,' may have had an 
even older sovereignty than Shamash, who was 
reckoned to be Us son. This sequence has been 
explained in various ways,' but it would seem that 
the rejoicing which attended the moon's appearance 
every month, and the lamentation which accom- 
panied its disappearance, point to the belief that 
in the presence and ascendancy of light, by night 
no less than by day, the ancient Babylonians found 
safety and happiness, whereas in darkness there 
lurked danger and woe. In this connexion it is 
curious to note that Saturn was regarded as a 
second sun, to whom (apart from the moon) the 
illumination of the night was due.* 

In spite of these etibrts to extend the sovereignty 
of light, there remained a sufficiently terrifying 
residuum of darkness. To overcome this, resort 
was had to other agencies, viz. magical rites and 
a due fulfilment of the duties owing to the dead. 
Darkness both of earth and of the underground 
being the milieu of demons and the spirits of the 
deceased, contrariwise tliey could not have their 
dwelling in the light. Inasmuch as natural light 
was not always available, artificial means had to 
be adopted to overcome the disabilities attaching 
to darkness. The energy of fire was here of great 
significance. It is noteworthy that a certain part 
of the temple where purification was wrought was 
termed ' the house of light ' (Assyr. btt n-dri). The 
light is associated with Girru or Nusku, the fire- 
god, which may be taken to mean that the purifi- 
cation was by tire.' The subject of artificial lights 
is closely related to this branch of our subject. 
The peoples of antiquity being obsessed by the 
terror of darkness, it was natural that they should 
have safeguarded themselves, so far as they could, 
by having lights in their dwellings and out-of- 
doors. From the number of lamps found during 
excavation, notably in Palestine, many of them 
belonging to the Semitic period, it has been inferred 
that these were in general use. Out-of-doors 
torches served the purpose. The torches of the 
Anunnaki (gods of a lower order) are mentioned in 
the Babylonian Flood Story (col. ii. 44). A graphic 
description of tlie festival ' illumination ' of New 
Year's Eve and days following, given by Breasted,' 
affords an excellent idea of the part played by 
artificial lights in the ritual of Egypt. One of the 
duties of the priests and ministrauts in the temples 
was to attend to the fires and lamps (cf. 1 S 3', 
1 K 7'"'). 

Thoug:ht3 of light and darkness were further kept in the 
minds of these ancient peoples by the terms assigned to the 



1 Jastrow, plates 6 and 7 (at p. 16). 

2 Budge, iii. 107, 174, 187, 194. According to the Babylonian 
conception, tbe sun seems to have entered on a better fate at 
night-fall, feasting and resting in the abode of the gods (King, 
Bab. Religion and Mythology, p. 33). 

3 Jastrow, p. 66. ■> lb. p. 223. 

6 lb. p. 313 fl. 6 Op. cit. p. 261 ff. 



66 



LIGUORI 



day (Assyr. terrw, Heb. dr, Might'); to the morning, or East 
( Aesyr. f 1( Samii, Heb. mizniii,' the rising of the sun ') ; to the 
evenine, or West (Assjt. erfb Sainii, Heb. m^bd hash-sheynesk, 
• the setting of the sun ') ; and by certain Babylonian month 
nau>es (.\ru, Ajjaru, the second or 'bright' month; Addiru, 
the ilevcnth, the 'dark' or 'gloomy' month). One series of 
dirwtions in Hebrew gives north ( — fd/tfn) as the ' obscure ' or 
'dark' place, and south ( = dar6m) as the 'bright' or 'illu- 
minated ' pl.ice.i 

7. Light and darkness in relation to the state 
after death. — The contrast between light and dark- 
nt'ss in tlie iiiea of the ancients is most strikingly 
revealed in their views about the state of the living 
and of the dead. ' Darkness without light ' is one 
of the curses invoked by tJammurabi on any one 
who sliould venture to deface his stele. This is 
synonymous with death. The grave to which the 
dead are consigned is ' the dark d welling' (Sumerian 
Uniigi), which in its extended meaning is applied 
to the under world, the abode of the shades (cf. Ps 
88*- '*• ").' The departed sou! itself is a 'creation 
of darkness' (Sumerian, tjiili.a, Semitic, edimmu).^ 
The darkness attending death was to some extent 
relieved in the practice of the living by the use of 
artificial lights in tlie preliminaries to burial and 
\>y occasional illuminations in proximity to the 
tomb. From Palestinian excavation it has been 
ascertained that lamps are exceedingly common in 
graves, where their intention is evidently sym- 
bolical. Their purpose has been variously ex- 
plained, and one and the same interpretation will 
iiardly suit every era. The readiest explanation 
would place them — at least in the earlier period — 
on a level with food and drink vessels deposited 
witli the dead. Wliatever was of service to the 
living might al.so serve the dead.* 

Among the Babylonians the general idea was 
that it was a misfortune for the dead again to be 
brought to the light of day. Unless decent burial 
were given, their spirits would return to earth, 
but only to plague the living.' In the ttnder world 
(or preferably the other world) was their home, 
and tliere their spirits found rest. The classic 
description of this abode of the dead is found in 
the myth of Ishtar's Descent to Hades, to the land 
of no-return (cf. Gilganiesh Epic, ii. i^"-) -. 
■To the house of darkness, Trkalla's dwelling-place, 
To the house from which he who etiters never returns. 
To the road whose path turns not back. 
To the house where he who enters is deprived of light. 
Where dust is their sustenance, their food clay. 
Light they see not, in darkness do they sit. . . .'6 
Over this gloomy realm of the Babylonian dead 
the god Nergal presides, with his consort Ereshki- 
gal, the ' dark ' goddess. In Egypt Osiris was 
lord of the under world, and there held his court. 
This also was a world lying in darkness, which 
was relieved one hour in twenty-four, during the 
passage of the sun-god and his train through each 
division of the Tuat.' The entrance to this realm 
of the dead lay, for both Babylonians and Egyp- 
tians, in the west, where the sun goes down. On 
the other hand, the east, as the point of sunrise, is 
the abode of life ; but this has an interest only for 
the sun-god and the privileged few who shared his 
daily recurring glory. Although the point of de- 
parture to the under world and the point of return 
therefrom are clear, there is doubt as to the loca- 
tion, relatively to earth, of tlie region of the dead. 
The Egyptians placed it beyond the circle of 
mountains girding the earth, perhaps on the same 
plane with earth, perhaps at a lower level. In 
the Babylonian and Hebrew concejition it seems 
to have lain beneath earth, even lower than the 

' SchiaparelH, p. 34. 

' A. Jeremias, Hotle UTid Paradics bet den Babyloniern, 
Leipzig, 1900, p. 14. 

'■> EliB, art. ' Death, etc. (Babylonian),' vol. iv. p. 446». 

•" n. Vincent, Canaan d'apris I'exploration rtcente, Paris, 
1»07, p. 289 ff. ; cf. S. A. Cook, The Religion 0/ Ancient Pahs- 
lint, London, 1908, p. 40 9. 

' Sayce, Reliqiotis 0/ Anc. Etjupt and Babylonia, pp. 283, 286. 

« Rogers, p. 121 1. ' Budge, Hi. 198 f. 



waters of the abyss (apsu), themselves associated 
with darkness.' This was a region which the sun, 
living or dead, could not pierce. 

A better fate for departed spirits, some if not 
all, was also conceived of — symbolized, e.q., in the 
recovery of Tammuz from the under \\orld and in 
the sun-bark with its occupants who returned to 
the region of day. Light here plays the principal 
part, although the obstacle of il.arkness has to be 
surmounted before the goal of light can he reached. 
One of the charms in the Book of the Dead is for 
making the transformation into tlie god that giveth 
light (in) the darkness, or light for darkness.^ 
The ' island of the blessed,' in the Gilganiesh Epic, 
is cut otf from mortals by many barriers, inclucling 
twelve double-hours of travelling through thick 
darkness. 

The Babylonian heaven was the reserve of the 
gods, save in exceptional cases. In Egypt, at 
an early date, the king shared in the delights of 
heaven, and was exalted to life with the gods in 
the sky. Later this was qualilied by the Osirian 
doctrine, whereby the realm of the bles.'^ed could 
be attained only by redemption from the under 
world through faith in Osiris or Amon-Ra. This 
otlier world is a realm of light for the most part. 
The crested ibis, whose name is equivalent to 
' light,' is used as a symbol of the soul, including 
that of the sun-god.' The kliu, or beatified spirits, 
feed upon the divine grain (i.e. the body of Osiris) 
in the land of the Light-god.'' Later, ' the fol- 
lowers of the Sun-god, who travelled m ith him in 
the Boat of Millions of Years, eventually became 
beings consisting of nothing but light '^ (cf. Is 
60-'"). 

Hebrew thought about the state of the dead in 
the under world shows close kinship to the Baby- 
Ionian, and is less developed than that of Egypt. 
The utmost allowed, even in the later books of 
the OT, falling within our period, is that the shades 
may emerge from Sh'61 back to the light of the 
upper world (Is 26'*)-* 
Literature. — This is sutficientlv given in the footnotes. 

William Cruickshank. 
LIGHTNING. — See Prodigies and Por- 
tents. 

LIGUORI.— Saint Alfonso Maria di Liguori 
was born '27 Sept. 1696 at Marianella, near Naples. 
He was the eldest son of a rather impoverished 
noble family, and, according to his biographers, 
was from earliest youth remarkable for his piety, 
his charm of manner, and his precocious ability. 
A strain of Spanish blood seems to have lent him a 
greater seriousness of mind and tenacity of purpose 
than are common among natives of Southern Italy. 
He devoted himself to the law, and took the degree 
of Doctor of Laws at the age of sixteen, being then 
so small of stature that, to the amusement of the 
spectators, his doctor's gown hid him almost com- 
pletely from view. He afterwards practised in the 
courts of Naples for nearlj' eight years with extra- 
ordinary success ; but it would seem that in 1723, 
in a case in which large pecuniary interests were at 
stake, Liguori, in the interpretation of an important 
document, was guilty of an oversight which, when 
brought home to him, covered him with confusion, 
and disgusted him with his career and witli all 
worldly ambition. He liad always led a most 
innocent life, and now, giving himself up to soli- 
tude and prayer, he had what he believed to be a 

1 For different locations of Sh'OI, relatively to the -^byss, see 
charts in HDB i. fiOS'' and Schiaparelli, p. .'iS. 

2 E. A. W. Budge, T/if Book 11/ the Dead, London, 1901, ii. 
201 f. Naville (p. 182) considers this an evident reference to the 
moon. 

3 Sayce, Religion 0/ Anc. Egypt, p. 122. 

4 Budge, Egyp. Heaven and Belt, iii. 104. 

5 lb. iii. 106. 

eSDB, art. 'Eschatology,' p. 23C». 



LIGUORI 



67 



supernatural intimation to consecrate tlie rest of 
his days to God in the ecclesiastical state. He 
wished to become an Oratorian, but his father, 
who had already been much distressed on two 
different occasions by his son's unwillingness to 
fall in with an advantageous project of marriage 
that had been suggested, obstinately opposed his 
design. Yielding eventually to his father's en- 
treaties, and acting on the advice of his confessor, 
himself an Oratorian, the young lawyer gave up 
his idea of leaving home, but began to study for an 
ecclesiastical career, and in December 1726 was 
ordained priest. In the first six years of his 
ministry Alfonso worked under the direction of an 
association of missionary priests, and devoted him- 
self at Naples to the care of the lazzaroni, among 
whom his labours bore extraordinary fruit. He 
converted many hundreds from a life of sin, and 
formed a sort of confraternity, the ' Association of 
the Chapels,' for these poor outcasts, to ensure 
their perseverance in good. In 1729 Liguori was 
brought into relation with a certain Father Thomas 
Falcoia of the ' Pii Operarii,' who conceived a deep 
respect for the young man, and, when he himself 
was shortly afterwards made bishop of Castella- 
mare, he was led to the conviction that Alfonso 
was an instrument divinely sent him to carry out 
a project which he had long secretly cherished of 
founding a preaching Order to evangelize the goat- 
herds and peasants of that part of Italy. The 
scheme eventually took shape in the little town of 
Scala, near Amalfi, twenty miles from Naples. 
There the ' Congregation of the Most Holy Re- 
deemer,' from which name the members are most 
commonly called Redemptorists, was founded in 
1732. Bishop Falcoia was at first its nominal 
superior, but he lived at a distance, while Alfonso 
resided with the community. Hence, on the 
bishop's death in 1743, Alfonso was formally 
elected to preside "over his brethren. In 1749 
the rule was authoritatively approved by Pope 
Benedict xiv., and the rule of an Order of nuns, 
which had been closely associated with the Re- 
demptorist congregation from the beginning, was 
approved in the following year. But this measure 
of success was not achieved without numerous dis- 
appointments, and several of Liguoris first com- 
panions broke away from the Institute. A 
document drawn up in those very early days by 
the hand of Alfonso himself in the vain hope of 
obtaining the approbation of the king of Naples, 
Don Carlos (afterwards Charles III. of Spain), 
supplies a concise account of the special charac- 
teristics of the new Order. 

' The principal aim of the priests so associated is to imitate as 
closely as possible . . . the life and virtues of Our Lord Jesus 
Christ. In this they set before themselves their own spiritual 
advanta^ie and that of the people of this kin^'dom— especially 
the most forsaken of these, to whom they reader spiritual 
aid. 

In their houses thev lead a perfect community life, under 
obedience to their superior, and perform the functions of the 
sacred ministry, such as instructions, confessions, the superin- 
tendence of schools, confrat-ernities, and other devout gather- 
ings. 

They go about the dioceses in which they are established, 
giving missions, and, as a means of preserving the good results 
which they have been enabled by the ;.rrace of God to effect, 
they return from time to time to the districts which have been 
evangelized, to hear confessions and confirir. the people in their 
good resolutions by another series of instructions and sermons 
as well as by spiritual advice and so forth. 

In the monastery as well as abroad they endeavour, with the 
help of divine graoe, to follow closely in the footsteps of the 
Most Holy Redeemer, Jesus Crjcified, in order to instruct the 
people by example as well as by precept. 

As a means of attaining this end, there are twelve points of 
rule set forth in their constitutions. The headings of these are : 
Faith, Hope, Love of God, Concord and Charity among them- 
selves. Poverty, Puriry of Heart, Obedience, Sleekness and 
Humility of Heart, Mortification, Recollection, Prayer, Abnega- 
tion of Self, and Love of tlie Cross. 

Each of the associates passes one day every week [now one 
day every month] in retreat, thus treating alone with God in 
the interests of his soul, in order to be able to employ himself 



afterwards with more ardour in securing the spiritual welfare 
of his neighbour. 

In their houses they consecrate a large part of each day to 
silence, recollection, the choir, mortification, and to meditation, 
which is practised three times a day. . . . 

Their houses are to contain but a small number of subjects. 
As for their subsistence, they endeavour not to be a burden on 
anybody : they live on their family resources, which they have 
handed' over to their superiors, and on such offerings as may be 
made spontaneously for the love of Jesus Christ, by the piety 
of the faithful' (Berthe, Soiiit Alphonse de Liguari, Eng. tr., 
i. 166). 

Despite domestic anxieties and contradictions in 
the government of the new Institute, Liguori, 
down to about the year 1752, devoted himself 
indefatigably to the actual work of preaching, 
while leading at the same time a life of e.\treme 
abnegation and austerity. At that period his 
health began somewhat to fail, and henceforward 
he devoted more time to literary activities, com- 
posing a niuuber of books of piety and instruction, 
as well as the comprehensive work on moral the- 
ology by which he is especially remembered. As 
early as 1747 the king had wished to make Alfonso 
archbishop of Palermo, but by earnest representa- 
tions he had succeeded in evading the profi'ered 
honour. The Redemptorists, in point of fact, 
take a special vow to accept no ecclesiastical 
dignities, but in 1762 influence was used with the 
Holy See to dispense the saint from his vow, and, 
sorely against his will, he was comiielled by the 
pope to accept the bishopric of Sanf Agata dei 
Goti, a tiny see to the north of Naples, among 
a peasant population unpleasantly notorious for 
their barbarism and irreligion. Here he worked 
wonders for the reform of morals, but after an 
episcopate of more than thirteen years he per- 
suaded Pope Pius VI. in 1775 to allow him to resign 
in order that he might end his days among a com- 
munity of his own Order. Broken with years, 
with apostolic labours, and with the incredible 
austerities which he practised, he retired to Nocera 
dei Pagani, but twelve years were still to pass 
before he was called to his reward. In the mean- 
time he was destined to endure trials w hich prob- 
ably cost him more severe mental sutteriug than 
any of the difficulties which he had jneviously 
encountered. For forty years and more, mainly 
ow iug to the influence of the anti-clerical but all- 
powerful minister Bernard Tanucci, who was the 
virtual ruler of Naples, the formal recognition of 
the Redemptorists as a religious Order had been 
withheld by the Government. This had always 
been an obstacle in the way of its expansion, 
reducing it, as it did, to the position of an illegal 
association. At the time of Tanucci's downfall in 
1776, the Order numbered only nine houses — four 
in Naples, one in Sicily, and fonr in the States of 
the Church. In 1779, under a different administra- 
tion, everything seemed to point to the adoption of 
a more generous policy. Promises of favour were 
made on behalf of the Government, and in response 
the Redemptorist rule was formally submitted for 
State approval. From the point of view of the 
aged founder, the result was disastrous. The rule 
was approved, indeed, but in a fundamentally 
modified form (known in the controversies which 
followed as the ' Regolamento'), which set at 
nauglit many of the most essential features of the 
constitutions as hitherto observed, and which 
practically reduced it from the status of a religious 
Order to that of a mere pious association. I-iguori, 
who was now 85, decrepit, deaf, and almost blind, 
was induced to sign the Regolamento, and it was 
for the time adopted in the Neapolitan dominions, 
but the Redemptorists belonging to the houses 
founded within the States of the Church energeti- 
cally protested against the acceptance of any such 
caricature of their rule. The Holy See pronounce<l 
in their favour, and the unfortunate schism thus 



68 



LIQUORI 



caused in the Order had not been healed wlien, on 
1 Aug. 1787, the saint died at Nocera dei Pagani. 
His death, tojjether with the outburst of popular 
enthusiasm \\-liich it evoked and the marvellous 
events that followed, brought about a happier state 
of feeling. The Government of Charles III. in Oct. 
1790 approved the oiiginal Redemptorist rule, and 
in Aug. 1791, under papal sanction, the dift'ercnt 
houses of the Order were once more reconciled with 
each other. From this time forward, and especially 
after tlie subsidence of the disturbances caused by 
the French Revolution and the Napoleonic wars, 
tlie development of the Order was rapid. In 1786 
the lirst Redemptorist liouse nortli of the Alps was 
founded at Warsaw by Clement Hofbauer, after- 
wards beatified. From there the Congregation 
graduallj' spread to Austria and through Europe, 
while a beginning was made in the United States 
in 1832 and in England in 1843. The Redemptor- 
Lsts have since made foundations in Ireland (1851), 
KinnouU, near Perth, in Scotland (1869), in Brazil, 
Dutch Guiana, the Congo, Australia, New Zealand, 
and many other distant countries. At present the 
Order numbers rather over 400U members, half of 
whom are priests, the rest lay-brothers and students 
preparing for ordination. The strict ultramontane 
views distinctive of the followers of St. Alfonso di 
Liguori have often brought them into disfavour 
with State officials, and, like the Jesuit.s. they 
have several times been banished from difl'erent 
European countries. Still no serious attempt has 
been made to connect them with any kind of 
political intrigue. The Redemptorists have re- 
mained steadily faithful to their primary work of 
giving missions and retreats, especially among the 
poor and uninstructed, and the severe rule of the 
Order has suffered no relaxation. 

Alfonso di Liguori was beatified in 1816, canon- 
ized in 1839, and declared ' Doctor of the Universal 
Church' by Pius IX. in 1871. The terms of this 
last pronouncement, though somewhat vague, may 
be held to constitute a guarantee of orthodoxy for 
the saint's writings, at least when taken as a 
whole. Moreover, it may fairly be inferred from 
the language used that he is commended for hold- 
ing a golden mean in his moral teaching between a 
Jansenistic rigorism on the one hand and danger- 
ous laxity on the other. A full bibliography of 
Liguori's writings may be found in Berthe, Eng. 
tr., ii. 766 ff. "Two works especially in this long 
catalogue have been subjected to much adverse 
criticism. Against the Le Glorie di Maria, lirst 
published at Naples in 1750, and since translated 
into every European language, many objections 
have been raised on the ground of its alleged ex- 
travagant 'Mariolatry' (see, e.g., E. B. Pusey, 
Eirenicon, Oxford, \8^5, passim). But it is to be 
remembered, as Newman points out, that ' St. 
Alfonso wTote for Neapolitans, whom he knew, 
and whom we do not know ' (see the whole context 
in J. H. Newman, Letter to Pusey on the Eirenicon, 
London, 1866, p. 103 ff.). The character and tra- 
ditions of the people are veiy different from ours, 
and he was writing to protest against what he 
considered to be a veiled attack on that simple 
and childlike devotion to the Blessed Virgin whicli 
he shared, and which is a very important factor in 
the religion of his countrymen. It is, however, 
the Theologia Moralis that more than anything 
else has been made the object of fierce invective. 
Liguori originally (j.e. in 1748) published his views 
on moral questions in the form of a commentary 
on a well-known text -book for students, the 
Medulla of the Jesuit Hermann Busenbaum. But 
the second edition in two volumes (Naples, 1753 
and 1755) appeared as an original work, and the 
author contmued to revi.se and enlarge it as the 
successive issues were exhausted. The eighth edi- 



tion, which was printed in 1779, was the last to 
receive his personal attention. Seeing that not 
only has Alfonso been declared a doctor of the 
Church, but that earlier authoritative decrees in 
1803 and 1831 i)ronounced that there was ' nothin" 
wortli3' of censure' in his writings (on this cf. 
Newman, History of my liclif/ivus Opinions, note 
G, p. 353), and that all his o|iinions might safely 
be followed bj- confessors, it is fair to conclude 
that by the theology of Liguori the moral teaching 
of tlie Roman Church must stand or fall. But, 
while we admit this, it must be said that few 
indeed of the exoteric critics who have inveighed 
against his teaching liave taken the trouble to 
understand it. It is easy to denounce the ' shock- 
ing laxity' of this or that isolated proposition set 
out, often inaccurately, and always apart from the 
context, as, e.<j., in the notorious pamphlet of 
Robert Grassiuann ( A usziige aus dcr Moraltheologie, 
etc. ), but the man who does this is most commonly 
a publicist who knows nothing of ethical systems 
and who has never considered the difficulties which 
follow from the acceptance of a contrary principle. 
Nothing can produce a better impression than to 
laj- down the rule that under no possible circum- 
stances must the truth be departed from, but those 
who most positively commit themselves to this are 
also those who have never attempted to think out 
the extremely difficult problems which arise in 
practical life, and who have never attempted to 
square their own conduct by any consistent prin- 
ciple. 

They believe, as Newman well saj'S, * that on a great or cruel 
occasion a man cannot help telling a lie, and that he would not 
be a man did he not tell it, but still it is wrong and he ouglit not 
to do it, and he must trust that the sin will be fortriven him. 
thouffh he goes about to commit it. It is a frailty, and had 
better not be anticipated, and not thought of asain after "it 
is once over." ' 

Now Liguori, like all his fellow-bishops, believed 
that for those whose duty it was to hear con- 
fessions and instruct their flock it was necessary 
that these and other moral questions should be 
thought out. Moreover, it must be said, in answer 
to such criticisms as those of R. Grassmann and 
those contained in art. Casuistry (vol. iii. p. 240), 
that priests administer a code of law in the tribunal 
penance and, like lawyers, doctors, and magistrates, 
they have to acquaint themselves with technicali- 
ties which, in the case of certain offences, often 
involve unsavoury details quite unfit for public 
discussion. 

One of the special grounds of reproach against 
Liguori's moral system is his adoption or defence 
of probabilism (q.v.). This charge is only partially 
justified and would be repudiated by all his own 
disciples. The principle whicli he enunciated, at 
least in his later years, was that of 'equiproba- 
bilism ' i,q.v.). The difference between this and 
probabilism, rightly explained, is not very moment- 
ous, and many modern writers on the subject, 
especially the theologians of the Jesuit school, 
have maintained that St. Alfonso's views diverged 
but slightly from those of approved i)robabili,sts. 
According to the probabilist system, starting with 
the admitted axiom that a doubtful law does not 
bind {lex dubia non obligat), a man is not held in 
conscience to obey as long as there is a sound 
probability against the law — as long as, e.g., in a 
matter of extrinsic testimony, where doctors dis- 
agree, one unexceptionable avitliority teaches that 
a particular precept has no binding force. The 
probabiliorists, on the other hand, held that, un- 
less the authorities who maintained the binding 
force of the law or precept were notably less 
weighty than those who excused from it, such a 
precept could not be set aside without sin. Be- 
tween these rival views comes that of Liguori, who 
held that, when the reasons or authorities were 



LIGURIAN RELIGION-LINGAYATS 



69 



equally balanced for and against the law, then 
a man without peril to his soul was free to use his 
liberty. 

' A doubtful law does not bind. But when two opposite 
opinions are equally or nearly equally probable, you have a 
strict doubt as to the existence of the law. Therefore the law, 
being only doubtfully promulgated, has no binding force. 
Therefore it is true that you can follow an equally probable 
opinion in favour of liberty' (Berthe, Eng. tr., ii. 143). 

A critical and definitive edition of the Theologia 
Moralis, equipped with adequate notes, has only 
recently been brought to completion : Theologia 
Moralis S. Alphonsi Marim de Liqorio, ed. 
Leonard! Gaude, 4 vols., Rome, 1905-12. The 
editor in his preface gives a satisfactory explana- 
tion of the inaccuracy of so many of the saint's 
quotations as printed in the current editions. 

Literature. — The fullest life of St. Alfonso di Liguori is that 
by A. Berthe, 2 vols., Paris, 1900, Eng. tr., H. Castle, 2 vols., 
Dublin, 1905 (the translation has been subjected to careful re- 
vision and is in many respects superior to the original). Other 
noteworthy biographies are those of A. Tannoia, Delia Vita 
ed ifftituto del' venerahile Alfonso Maria Liguori, 3 vols., 
Naples, 179S-1S0-2 (a valuable source written by a devoted 
disciple of the saint). See also C. Villecourt, Vie et instiUtt 
de S. Alphonse Marie de Liguori, 4 vols., Toumai, 1863; K. 
Dilgskron, Leben des heil. Bisckofs und Kirchentehrers A Ifonsus 
Maria de Liguori, Regensburg, 1887 ; A. Capecelatro, La Vita 
di S, Alfonso Maria lie LitiuoH, Rome, 1879. A good account 
of the Order with full bibliography will be found in M. Heim- 
bucher, Die Orden und Kongregationen der kathol. EirckeS, 
Paderborn, 1908, iii. 31S-333. 

On the Probabilist and Equiprobabilist controversy see the 
anon.\Tnous VindicioB Alphonsiantx^, Brussels, 1874, and Vindi- 
ci(€ Balleriniance, Bruges, 1873 ; J. de Caigny, Apologetica 
de Atquiprobabilismo Alphonsiano, do. 1894, and De genuine 
Probabilismo licito, do. 1904 ; J. Arendt, Crisis Aequiproba- 
bilismi, Brussels, 1902 ; J. Wouters, De Mimtsprohabilismo, 
Paris, 1905 ; A. Lehrakuhl, ProbaMlismus Vindicatus, Freiburg, 
1906. A severe indictment of the moral teaching of St. Alfonso 
di Liguori will be found in A. Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmen- 
geschichte'^, Freiburg, 1898, iii. 591, 044 ff. ; P. von Hoensbroech, 
Die idtramontane Moral, Berlin, 1902 ; J. J. I. Dbllingrer and 
F. H. Reusch. Geschichte der Moralstreitigkeilen, Munich, 1889, 
and the pamphlet of R. Grassmann, Ausziige aus der Moral- 
theologie des heil. Alphons v. Liguori, Stettin, 1895, which has 
been widely distributed as a controversial tract. In reply see, 
inter alia, J. H. Newn^n, History of my Religious Opinions, 
London, 1865, pp. 273fl. and 34Sfl. ; A. Keller, St. Alphons v. 
Liguori Oder Robert Grassmann ?, Wiesbaden, 1901 ; ' Pilatus,' 
Was ist Wahrheitt, do. 1902, and Quos Ego-, do. 1903; F. ter 
Haar, Das Dccret des Papstes Innocenz XI. iiber den Probor 
bUisrnus, Paderborn, 1904 ; V. Cathrein, Moralphilosophie^, 
Freiburg, 1S99, i. 397 ft. ; H. Ryder, Catholic Controversyi'>, 
London, 1890. H. THUESTON. 

LIGURIAN RELIGION.— Solittleiscertainly 
known of the early history and geographical dis- 
tribution of the Ligurians that any attempt to 
give a general account of their religion is impos- 
sible. Some of the deities that were worshipped 
in Roman times in the Ligurian area strictly so 
called may be mentioned. The most noteworthy 
are tliose closely attached to a particular spot, 
such as Mars Cemenelus {OIL v. 7871), sometimes 
worshipped without the first name, and clearly 
connected with the town of Cemenelum ; and 
Bormanus, who was probably, like his namesake 
in the north of Gallia Transpadana, from whom 
the modern town of Bormio takes its name, a god 
of hot springs, and who gave the name to the 
Lucus Bormani on the coast to the east of (Album) 
Intimelium, the modem Ventimiglia. Not less 
local was the worship of Mars Leucimalacus at 
Pedo {ib. 7862), possibly an apple- ripening deity, 
the dedication to whom was made on some festival 
of waggoners or muleteers (plostralibus). Local, 
too, was the cult of the Matronse Vediantise, where 
the plural is interesting, also honoured at Cemene- 
lum in the district of the Vediantii. The worship 
of Matronae with some local epithet or epithets 
was fairly common in N. Italy, sometimes com- 
bined with Genii, as in an inscription from Trem- 
ezzina on Lake Como {ib. 5277), generally with 
a local epithet, as Deruonnse (ib. 5791, found at 
Milan) or Vcellasicae Concanaunae {ib. 5584, found 
at Corbetta, north of Milan). They are often 



joined with Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and some- 
times themselves called lunones — a plural form 
which never appears in pure Latin inscriptions. 
It would be exceedingly unsafe, without other evi- 
dence, to see in this a trace of any polygamous 
strain in the Ligurian conception of Olympus ; a 
nearer parallel is the (presumably) generalizing 
plural in such animistic figures as Nyniphse, Fauni, 
or the ' Clouds ' and ' Dawns ' of the Tabula Agno- 
nensis (see Italy [Ancient]) ; or the Angitise 
of the Marsians — not to speak of the Parcse of 
Gra?co-Roman fable or the Xenyat at Athens. 

Other Ligurian examples of these ' Great 
Mothers' will be found in the Index to CIL (p. 
1180). The other deities of the locality are all of 
common occurrence in Italian communities. 

On the important question of the ethnic char- 
acter and connexions of the Ligures, reference 
must be made to EBr^^, art. ' Ligurians,' and the 
authorities there cited. If, and in so far as, the 
view of W. Ridgeway ('Who were the Romans?' 
Brit. Acad. Trans, iii. [1907] 42, with the comments 
of the present writer, ib. ) may be accepted as sound, 
the early history of Ligurian religion would be the 
same thing as that of the pre-Tuscan population 
of Western Italy, in particular of the Auiunci and 
other early dwellers on the soil of what afterwards 
was Latium (see ITALY [Ancient], especially 
the paragraph on the archaic cult of Aricia). 

R. S. Conway. 

LINGAYATS. — The Lingayats are a reUgious 
community in India, numbering nearly three 
millions at the census of 1911, of whom more than 
half are found in the southern districts of the 
Bombay Presidency. In the Bombay districts of 
Belgaum and Bijapur one-third of the population is 
Lingayat, and in the adjacent district of Dharwar 
they constitute nearly 50 per cent of the total. 
Beyond the limits of the Bombay Presidency, 
Lingayats are numerous in the Mysore and Hy- 
derabad States. They also fonn an important 
element in the population of the north-west comer 
of the Madras Presidency.' 

I. Description. — The Lingayats, who are also 
known as Lingawants, Lingangis, Sivabhaktas, 
and Virasaivas, derive their name from the Skr. 
word liiiqa, the phallic emblem, with the affix 
ayta, ani are 'the people who bear the liiiga^ 
habitually. Their name literally describes them ; 
for the true Lingayat wears on his body a small 
silver box containing a stone phallus, which is 
the symbol of his faith, and the loss of which is 
equivalent to spiritual death. The emblem is worn 
by both sexes. The men carry the box on a red 
silk scarf or a thread tied round the neck, while 
the women wear it inside their costume, on a neck- 
string. When working, the male wearer sometimes 
shifts it to his left arm. 

The Lingayats are Dravidian, that is to say, they 
belong to a stock that was established in India 
before the arrival of the so-called Aryans. They 
are dark in complexion, in common with the races 
of Southern India, and speak Kanarese, a Dravidian 
language. They have been not inaptly described 
as a peaceable race of Hindu puritans, though it 
may be questioned how far their rejection of many 
of the chief dogmas of Brahmanic liinduism leaves 
them the right to be styled Hindus at all. Of the 
Brahmanic triad ^ Brahma, Visnu, and Siva — 
they acknowledge only the god Siva, whose em- 
blem, the liiiga, they bear on their persons. They 
reverence the Vedas, but disregard the later com- 
mentaries on which the Brahmans rely. Originally 
they seem to have been the product of one of the 
numerous reformations in India that have been 

1 The census of 1911 gives the following figures for Linga- 
yats ; Bombay Presidency, 729,431 ; Mysore, 1,339,248 ; Madras 
Presidency, 134,592 ; total India, 2,976,293. 



70 



LINGAYATS 



aimed against the supremacy and doctrines of tlie 
Brahmane, wliose selfish exploitation of the lower 
castes has frequently led to the rise of new sects 
essentially anti-Briihmanic in orijri". It seems 
clear that, in its incejition, Lingayatism not only 
rested larjiely on a denial of the Bruhman claim to 
supremacy over all other cast«s, but attempted to 
alwlish all (.-aste distinctions. All wearers of the 
liiiga were proclaimed equal in the eyes of God. The 
traditional Lingayat t«acher, Basava, proclaimed 
all men liuly in proportion as they are temples of 
the great >pirit, and thus, in his view, all men are 
l>orn equal. The denial of the supremacy of the 
Brahmans, coupled with the a.<scrtion of the essen- 
tial equality of all men, constituted a vital de- 
parture from the doctrines of orthodox Hinduism. 
Other important innovations were : the prohibition 
of cliild-marriage ; the removal of all restriction 
on widows remarrying ; the burial, instead of burn- 
ing, of the tiead ; and the alx)Iition of the chief 
Hmdu rites for the removal of ceremonial impurity. 
The founders of the religion could scarcely have 
forged more pot«nt weapons for severing the bonds 
between their proselytes and the followers of the 
doctrines preached by contemporary Brahiuanic 
Hinduism. 

The reader must not assume that this brief de- 
scription of the fundamental doctrines of a religious 
movement which dates from the 12th cent. A.D. 
conveys an accurate picture of the prevalent 
Lingayatism of the present day. In connexion 
with the attitude originally assumed towards cast« 
distinctions, there has been a very noticeable de- 
parture from Basava's teaching. The origin of 
caste in India is as yet a subject requiring much 
elucidation. In its development no mean influence 
miLSt be allotted to function, religion, and political 
boundaries. Xor can dill'erences of race have 
failed materially to assist the formation of Indian 
societj' on its present basis. One of the most 
interesting jilienomena connected with the evolu- 
tion of modern ca«te is the working of a religious 
reformation in which caste finds no place on the 

freviously existing social structure of caste units. 
f caste is largely a manifestation of deep-root«d 



prejudices tending to raise and preserve carriers 
between the social intercourse of different sections 
of the human race, it would seem not unnatural to 
expect that it would tend to reassert itself within 
the fold of an essentially casteless religion so soon 
as the enthusiasm of the founders had spent it«elf ; 
and it is not unlikely that the mere fact of con- 
verts having joined the movement at an e;irly 
stage in its history would generat* a claim to 
social precedence over the later converts, and thus 
in time reconstitute the old caste barrier that the 
reformers spent themselves in endeavouring to 
destroy. One of the most interesting pages in the 
history of caste evolution, therefore, must be that 
which deals with the evolution of caste inside the 
fold of a religious community originally formed on 
a non-caste basis. A remarkable instance of such 
evolution will l>e found in the historj' of Linga- 
y.atisrn. The Lingayats of the pre.sent day are 
divided into three well-defined groups, including 
numerous true castes, of which a description will 
Ije found in the section dealing with their social 
organization (see p. 72). With the rise of caste 
distinctions, nnmerous other changes occurred in 
the nature of the Lingayat religion. The uyyas 
OT jahgnms, the i)riests of the community, devised 
in time a ritual and ceremonies in which the inllu- 
ence of the rival ISrahman aristocracy can freely be 
traced. The more important of these ceremonies 
are described in § 4 Ijelow. But it is essential 
to a thorough understanding of the nature of 
Lingayatism that the most important ceremony 
of all, known as the a^tavnrnn, or the eightfold 



sacrament, should l)e understood by the reader. 
It is commonly asserted nowadays liy prominent 
members of the Lingayat community that the true 
test of a Lingaj-at is the right to receive the full 
astavarna, and that the possession of a few of 
these eight rites only does not entitle the pos- 
sessor to be styled a member of the conimumty. 
The contention seems scarcely in harmony with 
the popular usage of the terra ' Lingayat.' 
The astnvarna consists of eight rites known as 



1. Guru. 

2. Lihga. 

3. Vibhuti. 

4. Kudraksa. 



5. Mantra. 

6. Jaiigaiu. 

7. Tirth. 

8. Prasad. 



On the birth of a Linga^-at the parents send for 
the guru, or spiritual adviser, of the family, who is 
the representative of one of the five dcluiryas, or 
holy men, from ■•. hom the father claims descent. 
The guru binds the lihga on the child, besmears it 
with vibhuti (ashes), places a garland of rudroksi 
(seeds of the bastard cedar) round its neck, and 
teaches it the mystic mantra, or prayer, known as 
Xamah ^ivaya — i.e. 'Obeisance to the god Siva.' 
The child being incapable of acquiring a knowledge 
of the sacred text at this early stage of its exist- 
ence, the prayer is merely recited in its ear by the 
guru. The child has then to be presented to the 
god Siva in the person of a, jurtgam, or Lingayat 
l)riest, who is summoned for this purpose. On his 
arrival the parents wash his feet, and the water in 
which the feet are washed is described as the t'trtha 
or citaranattrtha of Siva. This water is next 
poured over the lihga attached to the infant. The 
jahgnm is fed, and a portion of the food from the 
dish is placed in the child's mouth. This final 
ceremony is known as prusad. Occasionally the 
double characters of guru and jahgam are com- 
bined in one person. When the child attains the 
age of eight or ten, the ceremony is repeated with 
sli-jht modifications. 

It will be seen that this eightfold ceremony 
forms a very concise test of a Lingajat's religious 
status, and may be not unfitly compared to the 
rites of baptism and confirmation which are out- 
ward and visible signs of admission to the Catholic 
Church. But not all Christians are confirmed, and 
in the same way not all members of the Lingayat 
community undergo the full ceremony of initia- 
tion. It would probably be .safer to a[)ply the term 
' Lingayat ' to all wearers of the liiiga, whether 
they are entitled to the full a,^tararna on birth 
or conversion, or to a few only of the eight sacra- 
ments. In so doing, the lower onlers, from a 
social standpoint, of the Lingayat community will 
not be excluded, as they would otherwise be, from 
the fold. 

Lingayats are not permitted to touch meat or 
to drink any kind of Injuor. The greater number 
of them are either occupied in agriculture or are 
traders. They are generally reputed to be peace- 
ful and law-abiding ; but at times they are capable 
of dividing into violent factious with such rancour 
and hostility that the dispute culminates in riots, 
and occa-sionally in murder. Among the educate*! 
members of the community there Ls a strong spirit 
of rivalry with the Brfihinans, who.se intellect and 
capacity have secured tliem a preponderating sliare 
of Government apjioiutments. Except for these 
defects, the community may be described as steady 
and industrious, devoted to honest toil, whether in 
professional emjdoj'ment or occupied in tra<ling or 
the cultivation of the soil. 

2. History. —Until the recent publication of 
two inscriptions, which have been deciphered and 
edited by J. F. Fleet, and throw an entirely 
new light on the probable origin of the Lingayat 
religion, /.he movement in favour of this s{>ecial 
form of Sivaworsliip wa.s conmiouly supposed to 



LINGAYATS 



71 



have been set on foot by the great Lingayat saint, 
Basava, in the latter half of the 12th century. The 
acts and doctrines of Basava and of his nephew 
Channabasava are set forth in two puranas, or 
sacred books, named, after them, the Basavapurana 
(ed. Poona, 1905) and the Channabasavapurano, 
(ed. Mangalore, 1851). But these works were not 
wTitten until some centuries had elapsed since the 
death of tlie saints ; and it seems certain that the 
substratum of fact which they contain had by that 
time become so overlaid mth tradition and miracu- 
lous occurrences as to render them of little his- 
torical value. The Basavapurana describes Basava 
as the son of Brahman parents, Madiraja and 
Madalambika, residents of Bagevadi, usually held 
to be the town of that name in the Bijapur district 
of the Bombay Presidency. Basava is, the Kanarese 
name for ' bull,' an animal sacred to Siva, and thus 
a connexion is traced between Basava and the god 
Siva. At the age of eight, Basava refused to be 
invested with the sacred thread of the twice-born 
caste, to which he belonged by birth, declaring 
himself a worshipper of Siva, and stating that he 
had come to destroy the distinctions of caste. By 
his knowledge of the Saiva scriptures he attracted 
the attention of his uncle Baladeva, then prime 
minister to the king of Kalyan, Bijjala. Baladeva 
gave him his daughter Gangadevi in marriage. 
Subsequently Bijjala, a Kalachurya by race, who 
usurped the Chalukyan kingdom of Kalyana in the 
middle of the 12th cent., installed Basava as his 
prime minister, and gave him his younger sister 
Nilalochana to vrife. The puranas further recount 
the birth of Channabasava from Basava's unmarried 
sister Nagalambika, by the working of the spirit 
of the god Siva. The myth in connexion with 
this miraculous conception is interesting. Basava, 
while engaged in prayer, saw an ant emerge from 
the ground with a small seed in its mouth. He 
took the seed to Ivis home, where his sister swal- 
lowed it and became pregnant. The issue of this 
unique conception was Channabasava. Uncle and 
nephew both preached the new doctrines, and in 
so doing encountered the hostility of the Jains, 
whom they ruthlessly persecuted. A revolution, 
the outcome of these religious factions, led to 
the assassination of king Bijjala and to the flight 
of Basava and his nephew. Basava is said to 
have been finally absorbed into the liiiga at Kudal 
Sangameswar, and Channabasava to have lost his 
life at Uh-i in North Kanara, a district in tlie 
Bombay Presidency. An annual pilgrimage of 
Lingayat^ to the shrine of the latter at Ulvi takes 
place to this day. 

Two important inscriptions bearing on these 
traditions of the origin of the Lingayats deserve 
consideration. The first was discovered at the 
village of Managoli, a few mOes from Bagevadi, 
the traditional birthplace of Basava. This record 
(as also many others) shows that king Bijjala 
gained the kingdom of Kalyan in A.D. 1156. It 
also states that a certain Basava wa.s the builder 
of the temple in which the inscription was first 
put, and that Madiraja was mahaprabhii , or head 
of the village, when the grants in aid of the 
temple were made. Basava is further described as 
the giandson of Revadasa and son of Chandiraja, 
and as a man of great sanctity and \-irtue. The 
second inscription was found at Ablur in the 
Dharwar district of the Bombay Presidency, and 
belongs to about A.D. 12iX). It relates the fortunes 
of a certain Ekantad^-Ramayya, an ardent wor- 
shipper of the god Siva. Eamayya c-ame into 
conflict Avith the Jains, and defeated them, both 
in dispute and, the inscription says, by performing 
a miracle — we may venture to say, by arranging 
matters so that he seemed to perform it — which 
consisted in cutting ofi" his own head and having 



it r,estored to him, safe and .sound, by the grace 
of Siva, seven days later. All this came to the 
notice of King Bijjala, who summoned Raniaj^a 
into his presence. And Kamayya, making his 
catise good before the king, won his support, and 
was presented with gifts of lands for the temple 
founded by him at Ablur in the new faith. The 
incidents related of Kamayya are placed shortly 
before A.D. 1162, so that he would have been a con- 
temporary of Basava. No mention, however, of 
the latter or of his nephew is found in this record. 
If we accept the contemporary inscriptions as 
more entitled to credit than the tradition overlaid 
with myth recorded at a later date, it seems clear 
that both Basava and Ekantada-Ramayya were 
reformers who had much to do with the rise of 
the Lingayat doctrine, and that the event is to be 
placed in the 12th century. Lingayat scholars of 
the present day, indeed, claim a far earlier date 
for the origin of their faith. But their contention 
that its origin Is contemporaneous with that of 
Brahmanic Hinduism has yet to be established 
by adequate e%-idence. The best opinion seems 
to be that of Fleet, who considers that there is 
no doubt that the present Lingayat sect is more 
or less a development of the gild (mentioned in 
many inscriprions) of the 500 Swamis of Aihole, a 
^•illage in the Bijapur district, the protectors of 
the Vira-Bananjn religion, who were always more 
or less strictly Saivas, but, vdt\i a free-minded- 
ness wliich is not now common, patronized also 
Buddhism. The movement, however, in which 
the 500 Swamis of Aihole joined seems certainly 
to have originated with Ekantada-Ramayya at 
Ablur. And probably the prevalent tradition of 
the present day, that Basava was the originator of 
it and the founder of the community, must only be 
attributed to his having quickly become acquainted 
with the new development of Saivism started by 
Kamayya, and to his having taken a leading part 
in encouraging and propagating it in circumstances 
which rendered him more conspicuous than the 
real founder. Basava happened to be a memljer 
of the body of village elders at Managoli, and so 
to occupy a recognizable position in local matters, 
administrative as well as religious. Consequently, 
it seems likely that, when the first literary account 
of the rise of Lingayatism came to be ivritten, 
which was unquestionably an appreciable time 
after the event, his name had survived, to the 
exclusion of Ramayya's. Accordingly, the writer 
of that account was unable to tell us anything 
particular about Kamayya, beyond duly recording 
the miracle performed by him, and attributed the 
movement entirely to Basava, assigning to him 
an assistant, his nephew Channabasava, who is 
perhaps only a mythical person. But it must 
be also admitted that the early history of the 
movement may be capable of further elucidation, 
and that the present-day claims of the leading 
Lingayats for a very early origin for their religion, 
though lacking the support of historical evidence, 
have this much to rely on, that it is essentially 
probable that the Dravidian races of Southern 
India, whose primitive deities were absorbed by 
the ,Aryan invaders into the personality of their 
god ,Siva, always leant towards the special worship 
of Siva to the exclusion of the other members 
of the Bralimanic triad, and combined with this 
preference a dislike of Brahmanic ritual and 
caste ascendancy which is the real sutetratum 
of the movement ending in the recognition of 
Lingayatism. 

In dismissing the question of the origin of the 
Lingayat religion, it seems desirable to give an 
instance of the claims advanced by learned mem 
bers of the community for a greater antiquity for 
their religion than historical evidence would aJtlbrd 



LINGAYATS 



it. Mr. Kajibasavashaetri, Professor of Sanskrit 
and Kanarese in Jhe State College of Mysore, con- 
t«iKls that tlie Saiva sect of Hindus has alv.ays 
been divided into two groups, the one comprising 
the wearers of the liiiga, and the other those who do 
not wear it. Tlie former he designates Viraiaiva, 
and declares that the Vira^aivas consist of Brahman, 
Ksatriya, Vaisya, and Sudra, the fourfold caste 
lUvision of Manu. Quoting from the 17th chapter 
of the Paramc^vnr agama, he declares tljat the 
Virasaiva Brahmans are also known as Suddha 
Viraiaivas, Virasaiva kings as Marga Virasaivas, 
Virasaiva Vaisyas as Misra Virasaivas, and the 
Sudras of the community as Anteve Virasaivas. 
In his opinion, the duties and penances imposed on 
the first of these classes are (1) the astavarna (see 
p. 70), (2) penances and bodily emaciation, (3) the 
worship of Siva without sacrifice, (4) the recital 
of the Vedas. He further asserts that the Hindu 
a-iramas, or conditions of life of hrahniachdri, 
grliastlui, and sannyasi, i.e. student, householder, 
and ascetic, are binding on Virasaivas, and quotes, 
from various Sanskrit works, texts in support 
of this view. He furnishes a mythical account 
of the origin of Lingayats at the time of the 
creation of the world. The importance of this 
summary of his views lies in the fact that it is 
completely typical of the claims that many mem- 
bers of the Lingayat community have recently 
commenced to advance to be included, in a sense, 
within the fold of orthodox Hinduism, with the 
mistaken notion of thereby improving their social 
standing. They endeavour- to divide themselves 
into Manu's fourfold cajte scheme of Brahman, 
Ksatriya, Vaisya, and Siidra, regardless of the 
fact that theirs is in origin a non-cast« religion, 
and that Manu's scheme, which can only with 
great inaccuracy be applied to the more orthodox 
Hindu castes, is totally unsuited to the Linga- 
yats. A sign of this movement towards Brahmanic 
Hinduism among Lingayats is to be found in the 
organized attempt made by certain Lingayats at 
recent censuses to enter themselves as Virasaiva 
Brahmans ; and it seems probable that these claims 
to a great antiquity for their religion and for a 
cast« scheme based on Manu's model are chielly 
significant as signs of the social ambitions of the 
educated members, who are jealous of the pre- 
cedence of the Brahmans. 

3. Social organization. — The results of investi- 
gations undertaken in the Bombay Presidency in 
1900 by committees of Lingayat gentlemen en- 
trusted with the duty of preparing a classifica- 
tion of the numerous social subdivisions of tlie 
Lingayat community tend to show that the rela- 
tion of these various groups to each other is one of 
some complexity. Broadly speaking, Lingayats 
appear to consist of three groups of subdivisions. 

( 1 ) The first, which for convenience may be named 
' Panchamsalis with full astavarna rites' (see p. 
70 above), contains the priests of the community, 
known as ayyas or jangams, and the leading trader 
castes, or banjigs. It is probable that tliis group is 
the nearest approximation to the original converts, 
who, it will be remembered, could interdine and 
intermarry without restriction. The seven sub- 
divisions of this group may still dine together, but 
for puri)Oses of marriage the subdivisions rank one 
above the other, and it is permissible for a bride- 
groom of one subdivision to take a bride only 
from tlie divisions below his. The reverse process, 
namely, of a bride marrying a youth of a lower divi- 
sion, is strictly forbidden. Members of the lower 
subdivisions of this group may rise to the higher 
by performing certain rites and ceremonies. The 
marryin" of a boy to a girl beneath him in social 
rank and of a girl to a boy above her is part of 
a system of isogamy and liypergamy, and is not at 



all uncommon in many Indian castes. It is a 
probiilile speculation that the early converts in 
course of time came to rank themselves as superior 
to the more recent converts of the community, and 
the growth of this feeling would lead, in harmony 
with the ideas that prevail in all societies, to the 
early converts declining to wed their daughters to 
the newcomers, though they would accept brides 
from the latter as socially inferior, if only slightly 
so. The Panchamsalis, as they may be called for 
lack of a better name, are all entitled to the asta- 
varna rites, and rank socially above the remaining 
groups. In BG xxiii. 218 they are described as 
' Pure Lingayats.' 

(2) The next group is that of the ' non-Pancham- 
salis with astavarna rites.' This group contains 
over 70 subdivisions, which are functional groups, 
such as weavers, oil-pressers, bricklayers, dyers, 
cultivators, shepherds, and the like. It seems 
probable that they represent converts of a much 
later date than those whom we have styled Pan- 
chamsalis, and were never permitted to interdine or 
intermarry with the latter. In this group each sub- 
division is self-contained in regard to marriage ; 
that is to say, a,jddar, or weaver, may marry only 
a,jadar girl, a badig, or carpenter, may marry only 
a badig gill, and so on, resembling in tliis respect 
the ordinary Hindu castes, which are usually endo- 
gamous. Members of one subdivision may not 
pass to another. The names of the subdivisions 
are commonly indicative of the calling of the 
members, and it is of special interest to note here 
how the barriers erected by specialization of 
function have proved too strong for the original 
communal theories of equality which the Lin- 
gayats of early days adopted. 

It is interesting to observe that considerable diversity of 
practice exists in connexion with the relations of the sub- 
divisions of this group to the parent Hindu castes from which 
they separated to become Lingayats. In meet cases it is found 
that, when a portion of an original Hindu ca£te has been con- 
verted to Lingayatism, both intermarriage and interdining with 
the unconverted members are finally abandoned, and the caste 
is broken into two divisions, of which one is to be recognized by 
the members wearing the liiiga, and the other by their wearing 
the sacred thread of the twice-born. But in some instances — 
e.'j., the Jeers of the Belgaum district — the Lingayat members 
continue to take brides from the non-Lingayat section, though 
they will not marry their daughters to them ; it is usual to 
invest the bride with the lifiga at the marriage ceremony, thus 
formally receiving her into the Lingaj'at community. In other 
cases the Lingayat and non-Lingayat sections live side by side 
and dine together at caste functions, intermarriage being for- 
bidden. In this case, however, the former call in a JaAgam to 
perform their religious ceremonies, and the latter employ a 
Brahman. The more typical case seems to be that of a cf^te 
subdivision given in the Indian Census Report (Bombay Censtis 
Report, 1901, ch. viii. p. 182). In the last century a Lingayat 
priest of Ujjini converted a number of weavers in the village of 
Tuminkattl, Dharwar district, Bombay. These converts aban- 
doned ail social intercourse with their former caste brethren, 
and took their place as a new subdivision in the non-Pancham- 
sali group under the name of Kurvinaras. 
This second group of subdivisions, therefore, diliers 
essentially from the Panchamsalis, though the mem- 
bers also have the astavarna rites. It is described 
in BG under the name of 'Affiliated Lingayats.' 

(3) The third group of subdivisions is the ' non- 
Panchamsalis without astavarna rites.' It con- 
tains washermen, tanners, shoemakers, fishermen, 
etc., which would rank as unclean castes among 
Brahmanic Hindus. It is the practice among Lin- 
gayats of the present day to deny that the members 
of this third group are entitled to be classed as 
Lingayats at all. They maintain that, since the 
possession of the full astavarna rites is the mark 
of a Lingayat, these lower divisions, who at most 
can claim three or four of the eight sacraments, 
are only the followers or servants of Lingayats. 
The contention is not unreasonable ; yet it seems 
that these lower orders would be styled Lingayats 
by the other Hindus of the neighbourhood, and 
would describe themselves as such. A classifica- 
tion of the Lingayat community would not there- 



LINGAYATS 



73 



lore be complete xinless they were included. On 
this point the evidence of J. A. Dubois is of 
interest. He writes : 

* If even a Pariah joins the sect he is considered in no way 
inferior to a Brahmin. Wherever the lingam is found, there, 
they say, is the throne of the deity, \vithout distinction of class 
or rank ' (Hindu Manners, Customs, and Ceremonies^, p. 117). 

Lingayats of this description marry only within 
their subdivision. They are described as 'Half- 
Lingayats' in BG, 

Within the subdivisions just described smaller 
groups are found, known as exogamous sections, 
that is to say, groups of which the members are 
held to be so closely connected that, like blood- 
relations, they must marry outside their section. 
Little accurate information is available regarding 
the nature and origin of these sections ; but it ap- 
pears that in the higher ranks they are named 
alter five Lingayat sages, Nandi, Bhrngi, Vira, 
Vrsa, and Skanda, and in this respect closely re- 
semble the ordinary Brahmanio gotras (?.«.). The 
Lingayats do not allow the children of brothers to 
intermarry, nor may sisters' children marry to- 
gether. Marriage with the children of a paternal 
uncle or maternal aunt is similarly forbidden. A 
man may marry his sister's daughter ; but, Lf the 
sister be a younger sister, such a marriage is looked 
on with disfavour. Marriage is both infant and 
adult. Sexual licence is neither recognized nor 
tolerated, but is punished, if need be, by excom- 
munication. Polygamy is permitted, but is usual 
only when the first wife fails to bear a son. The 
disputes that arise on social or religious questions 
are settled by the paAchayat, or committee of five 
elders, an appeal lying to the head of the math, or 
religious house. These maths are found scattered 
over the tract of country in which Lingayats 
predominate ; but there are five of special sanc- 
tity and importance, namely, at Ujjini, Srisaila, 
KoUepaka, Balehalli, and Benares. From these, 
decisions on vexed questions of doctrine and ritual 
issue from time to time. 

4. Beliefs and customs. — It has been seen that 
the Lingayats are believers in the god Siva, the 
third person of the Hindu triad, signifying the 
creative and destructive forces in the universe. 
Thence they derive the phallus, or lihga, emble- 
matic of reproduction, and the sacred bull, Nandi or 
Basava, found in all their temples, and in all pro- 
bability the emblem of strength. The ceremonies 
in vogue at birth, betrothal, marriage, and death 
have been accurately described by R. C. Carr in his 
monograph on the Lingayat community (Madras 
Government Press, 1906), and are given below. 

One principal Lingayat ceremony known as 
the astavania, or eightfold sacrament, has been 
already referred to in some detail (p. 70 above). 
The essentially Lingayat beliefs and ceremonies, 
such as the wearing of the lihga, the worship of 
the jahgam, and the administration of astavania 
rites, are, however, as is usual in India, constantly 
mingled with many commonplace Hindu beliefs 
and customs. It is a common practice in India for 
Hindus to worship at the shrine of Musalman plrs, 
or saints, and in the same way Lingayats will com- 
bine the worship of the special objects prescribed 
by Basava with the worship of purely Hindu deities 
such as Hanuman, Ganapati, YeUamma, Maruti, 
and many others. The investigations hitherto con- 
ducted do not clearly show how far Lingayat and 
Hindu ritual are liable to be combined ; out it can 
be confidently predicted that the lower orders of the 
community, who still keep in touch with the un- 
converted section of the caste to which, profession- 
ally speaking, they belong, ■will be found to adhere 
in many instances to the Ijeliefs and customs of 
their unconverted fellow castemen, despite the 
teaching and inflaence of the jahgams. 



The specially Lingayat ceremonies described by 
Carr are : 

(1) Birth. — ft is customary for the female rela- 
tives attending a confinement to bathe both mother 
and chOd. On the second or third day boiled tur- 
meric and water is applied to the mother, and a 
ceremony known as viralu, or the worship of the 
afterbirth, is performed. The propitiation of the 
afterbirth by the offering of food, riim leaves, tur- 
meric, and a coco-nut, is considered necessary for 
the safe suolding of the child. When the child 
receives the tirth, or water in which the jahganCs 
feet have been washed (see above, p. 70""), the mother 
also partakes of it. 

(2) Betrothal. — For a betrothal the bridegroom's 
family come to the bride's house on an auspicious 
day in company with a jaiigam. They bring a 
woman's cloth, a jacket, two coco-nuts, five pieces 
of turmeric, five limes, and betel-leaf and areca-nut. 
They also bring flowers for the su-naka (a cap of 
flowers made for the bride), gold and silver orna- 
ments, and sugar and betel-nut for distribution to 
guests. The bride puts on the new clothes with 
the ornaments and flowers, and sits on a folded 
blanket on which fantastic deWces have been made 
with rice. Some married women fill her lap with 
coco-nuts and other things brought by the bride- 
groom's party. Music is played, and the women 
sing. Five of them pick up the rice on the blanket 
and gently drop it on to the oride's knees, shoulders, 
and head. They do this three times with both 
hands ; sugar and betel are then distributed, and 
one of the bride's family proclaims the fact that 
the bride has been given to the bridegroom. One 
of the bridegroom's family then states that the 
bride is accepted. That night the bride's family 
feed the visitors on sweet things ; dishes made of 
hot or pungent things are strictly prohibited. 

(3) Marriage. — The marriage ceremony occupies 
from one to four days, according to circumstances. 
In the case of a four-day marriage, the first day is 
spent in worshipping ancestors. On the second day 
rice and oU are sent to the local math, or religious 
house, and oU alone to the relatives. New pots are 
brought with much shouting, and deposited in the 
god's room. A marriage booth is erected, and the 
bridegroom sits tmder it side by side with a married 
female relative, and goes through a performance 
which is called surige. An enclosure is made 
round them with cotton thread passed ten times 
round four earthen pitchers placed at the four 
comers. Five married women come with boiled 
water and wash oft' the oil and turmeric with which 
the bride and the bridegroom and his companions 
have been anointed. The matrons then clothe them 
with the new clothes ofl'ered to the ancestors on the 
first day. After some ceremonial the thread form- 
ing the enclosure is removed and given to a. jaiigam. 
The surige being now over, the bridegroom and his 
relative are taken back to the god's room. The 
bride and her relative are then taken to the pandal, 
and another surige is gone through. When this is 
over, the bride is taken to her room and is decorated 
with flowers. At the same time the bridegroom is 
decorated in the god's room, and, mounting on a 
bullock, goes to the viDage temple, where he offers 
a coco-nut. A chaplet of flowers called bdsiitga is 
tied to his forehead, and he returns to the house. 
In the god's room a paiichkalai, consisting of five 
metal vases with betel and ashes, has been arranged, 
one vase being placed at each comer of a square 
and one in the middle. By each kalaS is a coco- 
nut, a date fruit, a betel-leaf, an areca-nut, and 
one pice tied in a handkerchief. A cotton thread 
is passed round the square, and round the centre 
kalai another thread, one end of which is held by 
the family gunt and the otlier by the bridegroom, 
who sits opposite to him. The guru wears a ring 



74 



LINGAYATS 



made of kiifa -rrass on the bij; toe of liis right foot. 
The hriiie sits on the left-hand side of the bride- 
gnx)in, and tlie ijuni ties their right and left hands 
respectively with kuAa grass. The joined hands of 
the bride and bridegroom are wa-shed, and bilva 
{^gle tnarmelos) leaves and flowers are offered. The 
officiating priest then consecrates the neck orna- 
ment and the thread, ties the latter on the WTists of 
the joined hands, and gives the former to the bride- 
groom, who ties it round the bride's neck, repeat- 
ing some words after the priest. 

The tying of the tali is the binding portion of 
the ceremony. Before the tali is given to the 
bridegroom, it is passed round the assembly to be 
touched by all and blessed. As soon as the bride- 
groom ties it on the bride, all those present throw 
over the pair a .shower of rice. The bridegroom 
places some cummin seed and jOgi-i, or unrelined 
sugar, on the bride's head, and the bride does the 
same to the bridegroom. Small quantities of these 
articles are tied in a comer of the cloth of each, 
and the cloths are then knotted together. The 
bride worships the bridegroom's feet, and he 
throws rice on her head. The newly married 
couple offer fruits to live jaiigams, and present 
them with five pice. The relatives worship the 
bride and bridegroom, wash their feet, and offer 
presents, and the proceedings of the day teiniinate. 

On the third daj-, friends and relatives are fed. 
Ou the fourth day, bride and bridegroom ride in 
procession tlirougli the village on the same bullock, 
the bride in front. On returning to the house they 
throw scented powder at each other, and the guests 
join in the fun. Then follows the wedding break- 
fast, to which only the near relatives are admitted. 
The marrieil couple worship jniignms and the 
elders, and take off the consecration thread from 
their wrists and tie it at the doorway. The five 
matrons who have assisted are given presents and 
dismissed, and the marriage is now complete. 

In a one-day marriage the alxive ceremonies are 
crowded into the short time allotted. 

The remarriage of widows was one of the points 
on which Basava insisted, and was probably one of 
the biggest bones of contention with the Brahmans. 
■Widow remarriage is allowed at the present day, 
but the authorities at Ujjini see fit to disregard it. 
The}- say that among jahgams it is prohibited, 
and that among the other classes of Lingayats it 
is the growth of custom. 

(4) Death. — The dead are buried in a sitting 
posture facing towards the north ; but an exception 
is made in the case of unmarried people, who are 
buried in a reclining position. 

Before the sick man dies, the ceremony called 
vibhuti-velai is performed. He is given a bath, 
and is made to drink holy water in which the 
jaiiganCs feet have been washed. He is made to 
give the jahgam a handkerchief with vibhilti 
(ashes), rudrdksa (seeds of the bastard cedar), 
daksina (coin), and tdmbula (betel-leaf). This is 
followed by a meal, of which all the jahgams 
present and the relatives and friends of the patient 
partake. It appears to be immaterial whether the 
patient is still alive or not. It is stated that, if the 
invalid survives this ceremonj-, he must take to the 
jungles and disappear ; but in practice this is not 
observed. The death party resembles in some 
respects an Irish 'wake,' thouLjh the latter does 
not commence until the decea.sea is well on his way 
to the next world. 

After death the corpse is placed in a sitting 
posture, and the Jahgam, who has received the 
offering before death, places his left hand on the 
right thigh of the body. The jieople pre.sent wor- 
ship the corpse, and the usual distribution of corns 
and l»tel to jahgam-i follows. The Ijody is then 
carried in a iriman, or bamboo chair, to the burial- 



•'round. The grave should be a cube of 9 feet 
dimen.-ions, with a niche on one side in which the 
corpse is to sit. The liitga is untied and placed in 
the left hand, bilva leaves and vibhuti are placed 
at the side, the body is wrapped in an orange- 
coloured cloth, and the grave is tilled in. A 
jahgam stands on the grave, and, after receiving 
the usual dunccitr, shouts out the name of the 
deceased, and says that he has gone to Kailasa, 
or heaven. 

Memorial ceremonies are contrary to Lingayat 
tenets ; but in this, as in other matters, the influence 
of the Brfdimans appears, and among some sections 
an annual ceremony is performed. The performance 
of i-raddlia, or the funeral ceremonies common to 
other Hindus, is unknown. Dubois tells us that a 
Lingayat is no sooner buried than he is forgotten. 

' The point in the creed of the Sivaites which appears to me to 
be most remarkable is ti.eir entire rejection of that fundamental 
principleof the Hindu religion, imirtyanma, or metempsychosis' 
(p. 116). 

From tills it would follow that thej- do not believe 
in ghosts. But there is a generally accepted idea 
that evil spirits sometimes take possession of 
females. This may be a rude way of expressing 
the fact that the gentle sex is ' uncertain, coy, and 
hard to please. ' Although the ceremony of h-dddha 
is unknown, once in a year on the new moon day 
of the month Bhadrapada or in Aswina, the}' offer 
clothes and food to (a) ancestors in general, (6) 
childless ancestors, and (c) men who have died a 
violent death. 

Among Lingayats widow remarriage is common, 
and divorce is permissible. The ordinarj- law of 
Hindus is followed in regard to inlieritance. Linga- 
yats regard thsxT jaiigams, or priests, as incarnations 
of Siva, and will bathe their lihgas in the water 
in which the jaiigam has washed his feet and thus 
rendered holy. They have numerous superstitions 
regarding good and bad omens. Thus, it is lucky 
to meet a deer or a dog going from right to left, 
whereas the same animals passing from left to right 
will bring ill luck (monograph on Lingavats by R. 
C. Carr). They do not ol^erve the pollution periods 
of the Hindus, and their indifference to the ordi- 
nary' Hindu purification ceremonies is notorious 
(Dubois, pt. i. ch. ix.). 

Members of other religious communities who 
wish to become Lingayats are called on to undergo 
a three days' ceremony of purification. On the 
first day they allow their face and head to be 
shaved, and "bathe in the products of the cow, 
which alone they may feed on and drink that daj'. 
The second day thej- bathe in water in which the 
feet of a jaiigam have been washed, and which is 
therefore holy water. They eat su^ar and drink 
milk. On the third day they take a bath described 
as panckamrt, i.e. they apply to the head and 
body a paste made up of plantains, cow's milk, 
clarified butter, curds, and honey, and wash it off 
with water ; they again drink the tirth, or water in 
which the feet of a jahgam have been washed, and 
are then invested >vith the lihga, after which they 
are allowed to dine with Lingayats, and are con- 
sidered members of the community. Women under- 
go the same ceremony, except the head-shavin'j. 

5. General remarks. — It will be gathered from 
the foregoing sketch of the origin and present-day 
social organization and customs of the Lingayats 
that the community is virtually an original ca.->te- 
less section in process of reversion to a congeries of 
castes holding a common religion. It has been 
seen how, in the 1-th <ent., a movement was set 
on foot and spread abvo.ad by two Brahmans, 
Ekautada-Itamaj-ya and Basava, devotees of Siva, 
to alx)lish the ceremonies and restrictions that 
fettered the intercourse Ijetween the difl'erent ranks 
of orthodox Hindu society of the period, ami to 



gLING CHOS 



establish a community on a basis of the equality oi 
its members, irrespective of sex, by means of the 
purifying worsliip of the one god Siva. It seems 
clear that the movement found special favour in 
the eyes of the Jain traders of the period, who 
■would have ranked, as Vaisyas, below both Brah- 
man priest and Ksatriya warrior under the Hindu 
scheme of social precedence. The community en- 
countered the hostility of the Jains, who remained 
unconverted, but clung tenaciously to its simple 
faith in the worsliip of Siva, and in his emblem, 
the lihga. We must assume the probability that 
the Brahman converts, of whose existence we 
possess historical evidence, tended by degrees to 
assert for themselves social jjrecedence as ai/i/as or 
jrikfjriyns, i.e. the priests of the community, for 
wliich position their knowledge and descent would 
give them special fitness. In time, indeed, they 
came to be regarded as the very incarnations of the 
god fsiva, and thus they were holy, iniparting 
holiness in a special degi'ee to the water in which 
they had bathed their feet, known as t'lrth, so that 
it plays a prominent part to this day in the Linga- 
yat ceremonies. Once the original notion of uni- 
versal equality of rank had yielded to the priests a 
precedence incompatible with such equality, the 
way was prepared for the introduction of further 
social gradations, and the older members of the 
community commenced to claim over the later 
converts a precedence modelled on that which the 
priests had established against them. In such a 
manner the essential doctrine of equality became 
completely undermined, and in the end gave place 
to certain rites and ceremonies as the test of Lin- 
gayat orthodoxy. Thus, when the more recent 
cases of caste conversion occirrred, a section of a 
Hindu caste became Lingayat, not, as the founders 
of the religion would have -wished, by being ad- 
mitted to a footin" of equality on the common 
ground of the W9rship of Siva and of his emblem 
the liiiga, but by investiture through certain rites 
and ceremonies with the lihga, retaining their dis- 
tinctive social status as a functional caste, with 
which other Lingayats would neither marry nor 
dine. It must be admitted that in the case of most 
of the Lingayat subdivisions the jaiigam will take 
food in the house of the members, but here all 
trace of the original equality ceases ; and the Lin- 
gayats of to-day present the curious and interesting 
spectacle of a religious sect broken in the course of 
centuries into social fragments, of which the older 
sections remain essentiaUy sectarian, and the more 
recent in origin possess the typical attributes of 
ordinary Hindu castes. As in the case of Christ- 
ianity in some parts of India, the social barriers of 
caste have proved too strong for the communal 
basis of the orthodox religion. 

LiTERiTURE.— J. F. Fleet, Epioraphia Indica, v. (1899), also 
art. in I A xxx. (1901); C. P. Brown, 'Essay on the Creed, 
CJustoins, and Literature of the Jangams,' in Madras Journal 
of Literature and Science, ser. i. vol. xi. (1840) ; J. A. Dubois, 
Hindu Manners, Customs, and Ceremonies'.^, Oxford, 1900; 
B. L. Rice, Manual of Mysore and Coorg, i. (1896) ; BG, 
■Bijapur and Dharwar," ISSO ; Census of India, 1901, ix., 
' Bombay ' ; R. C. Carr, Lingayats, Madras, 1906 ; R. G. 
Bhandarkar, G/.4Piii. 6(1913), pp. 131-140. 

R. E. Enthoven. 

gLING CHOS. — The gLing chos (gLing-myth- 
ology),or gLiv'i gla (gLing -song), ^ is the mythology 
contained in Tilietan folk-lore, and is perhaps the 
most ancient religion of that country. It is dis- 
tinguished from the ancient mytliology of countries 
such as Finland and Russia by the fact that it 
has not to be pieced together from fragmentary 
allusions scattered through the whole range of 
Tibetan folk-lore, but can be gathered from com- 

1 The term gLin^ chos was first employed by the present 
writer. Among natives of Tibet the name gLing glu ('son^s 
of '^/.i/c?') is in more general use. In a hymnal discovered in 
Upper Kanawar the. words Lha chos and Bon chos are used for 
this type of religion. 



plete hymnals and catechisms, in which the gLing 
chu.f has lieen preser\ ed for us almost untouched. 

1. Is the gLing chos the ancient religion of 
West Tibet only or of the whole of Tibet?— 
Although the present writer's materials were 
collected exclusi\ely in West Tibet, it is probable 
that the gLing chos was the ancient religion of 
the whole country. (1) We are informed by 
a lama of Tasliilhunpo (in Central Tibet) that 
an endless variety of versions of the Kesar-saga 
(not the Kesar-epic, which belongs to the subject 
of Lamaism) are current, just as is the case 
in Ladakh (Western Tibet), where each village 
has one or even more versions of its own. (2) In 
the legends of MUaraspa there are embodied 
several gLing glu.^ MUaraspa seems to have been 
extiemely clever in building a bridge from the 
gLing chox to Lamaism. He was a native of 
Eastern Tibet, Khang chen abyung Inga (or the 
Kanchanjanga) being his native country. But, 
even if the gl-i»g chos can be proved to be, terri- 
torially, a real Tibetan religion, the question still 
remains whether it is the original property of 
the Tibetan (Indo-Chinese) race or belongs to the 
Mon and Bedha popiJation, wlio are the principal 
preservers of it at the present day, and who are 
not of Indo-Chinese, but possibly of Aryan and 
Mundari, stock. 

2. Cosmology of the gLing chos. — In all the 
sources mentioned below, in the Literature, three 
large realms are spoken of : 

(1) sTnng lha, heaven (literally, 'the upper 
gods,' or 'the gods above').— A king reigns in 
sTang Uia called sKyer rdzong snyan^o.^ He is 
also called dBangpo rgjabzhin, anil aBum khri 
rgyalpo. The name of his wife, the queen of 
heaven, is bKur dman rgyalmo, Ane bkur dmanmo, 
or 4Bum khri rgyalmo. They have three sons, 
Don yod, Don Idan, and Don grub. The youngest 
is the most prominent figure. ' Lightning flashes 
from his sword out of the middle of black clouds.' 
Don gTub descends to the earth and becomes king 
Kesar of gLing. According to one theory, thunder 
seems to be caused by the walking of the gods, 
and, according to another, it is the groaning of the 
dragon-shaped abrug, dwelling in the dark clouds, 
when it is assaUed by Kesar with his sword of 
lightning. Three daughters of the king of heaven 
are ahso mentioned. 

The life of the gods is an idealized form of man's 
life. They constitute a State, with king, ministers, 
servants, and subjects. They aljide in perfect 
happiness, and live, free from Illness, to a good 
old age. They tend, apparently on the earth, 
certain goats known as lha ra. These they must 
defend against the de^il bDud. Kesar later on 
discovers many of the lha ra in the latter's realm. 
The king and the queen often change their shape. 
The former becomes a white bird or a yak, and 
the latter takes the shape of a woman, a dzo 
(hybrid between a cow and a yak), a golden or 
turquoise fly, or a dove. 

(2) Bar btsan, the earth (literally, ' the firm 
place in the middle'). — Other names are mi yul, 
'land of men,' and gLing, 'the continent.' The 
principal deity of this earth is mother Skyabs 
bdun (or Skyabs mdun). It is probable that she 
is identical with brTanma, the goddess of the 
earth (H. A. Jaschke, Tibetan-English Dictionary, 
London, 1881). She rides a horse called bTsan 
rta dmar chung. Of her subjects, the human 
race, we do not hear much in the saga. The 

1 Some of these gLing glu will be found in I>. Laufer's ' Zwel 
Legenden dee Milaraspa,' in ARW iv. [1901J 100-123, nga ni 
ivjar seng dkarmoi bu, etc.; 131-143, seng dgangsla agyingba 
spar mi^^khyag, etc.; 194-211, dlnia ribo mchog rab mchod 
rtenla, etc. 

- This is the actu^il pronunciation. In literature the name is 
spelt brgya sbyin (Satakratu or Indra). 



76 



gLING CHOS 



eighteen affiis (see below) take the part of human 
beings. 

(3) Yop klu, the under world (literally, ' the 
naqas below'). — Like sTang Iha, Yog klu is also 
a State. There is a king called IJogspo (probably 
ICogpo is meant), with liis servants and liis sub- 
jects, who are remarkable for the \ax^e number 
of their children. Tiie klumo, or ndtjml (female 
■nagas), are famous for their beauty, and Kesar ia 
warned not to fall in love with them. For this 
reason, at the present day, the Ladfikhi women 
still desire to look like klumo, and wear the perag 
or berag, a leather strap set with turquoises. This 
perag represents a snake growing out of the neck 
of a human body, which, according to Indian 
Buddhist art, is the characteristic mark of ndgas. 

3. The colours of these realms. — The most origi- 
nal system of colours seems to be contained in tlie 
Sheh version of the Kesar-saga. According to it, 
the colour of sTang Ilia is white — perhaps the 
colour of light ; Bar btsan is red — perhaps on 
account of the reddish colour of the ground ; * and 
Yog klu is blue — this may be due to the deep blue 
colour of many Tibetan lakes. The klu generally 
live in the water. 

According to the Lower Ladakhi version of the 
Kesar-saga, the colour system is as follows : sTang 
Iha is wliite ; Bar btsan is red ; and Yog klu is 
black. A still more advanced stage is represented 
in the Mongolian version (which is without doubt 
based on that of Tibet). Here sTang Iha is white; 
Bar btsan is yellow ; and Yog klu is black. The 
change from red to yellow has probably something 
to do with Tsong-kha-pa and his reformation of 
Lamaism. 

4. The devil bDud. — Occasionally, to the three 
realms of the world a fourth is added, that of the 
devil bDud, and then all the three realms become 
united in opposition to this new realm. The colour 
of the devil and of his realm is black (Sheh version) 
or violet (Lower Ladakhi version). It is situated in 
the north. The devil tries to carry away the goats 
of the gods. He is in possession of a beautiful 
castle, great treasures, and a girl who is kept in a 
cage. Near his castle is the well of milk and 
nectar. In size, appetite, and stupidity he closely 
resembles the giants of European mythology and 
folk-lore. There seems to be a close coimexion 
between Yog klu and the dex-il's realm, as they 
both appear to go back to similar ideas. But 
gradually the devil developed into a morally de- 
testable character, while the klu did not. Other 
names of the devil bDud are aDre Iha btsan bog, 
Curulugu, Srinpo (' ogre '), and sDigpa (' sinful '). 

Of a very similar nature is agu Za. He is prob- 
ably a mountain- or cloud-giant. He devours not 
only Kesar, but also sun and moon. 

5. The seven and the eighteen agus. — Next to 
Kesar, the greatest heroes of the Kosar-saga are 
the eighteen agus. Kesar is their leader, and 
together with him they form a group of nineteen 
beings, in whom the present writer is inclined to 
see personifications of the twelve months plus the 
seven days of the week. Just as India had a 
group of seven udilyas before there were twelve, 
we find occasionally a group of seven agiis who act 
by themselves, the others being forgotten. There 
is a female agu among the group of seven, and 
there is always a traitor among the agus. They 
are described as having non-human heads on human 
bodies, thus being similar in shape to the Chinese 
representations of the zodiac. The list of the 
eighteen is as follows : 

1. Paaan{( Idan ru skyc^, with a goat's head. 

i Anggar rtsant(8i>o, with a lizard's head. 

3. Khrai mgo kbrai thung, with a falcon's head. 



1 The word dmaryo, 'red,' is also used tor 'brov?n.' Of. the 
traditional interpretation ol the word 'Adam.' 



4. Kha r^an [djj^'ani, with a white beard. 

6. sKya r,^o<ipo. with a aoup-spoon for a head. 

6. zLaba bzangpo, with a moou for a head. 

7. niDa dpon ^'Onv.'ma, with an arrow-blade for a head. 

8. Ala jong gol, with the sole of a boot for a head. 

9. aBu dmar Iain bstan, with a worm's hea<L 

10. Shelgyi buzhung, with a concave mirror for a head. 

11. [dJGani gongba, with a collar for a bead. 

12. Lag lag rings, with a hand for a head. 

13. rKang rKang rings, with a foot for a head. 

14. Bong nag Idumbu, with a donkey's head. 
16. bKa blon Idanpa, with a man's head. 

16. dPalle rgodpo, with an old man's head. 

17. rNa 7yu rna ithsal, with a turquoise for a head. 

18. zLaba dkarpo, with a white shell for a head. 

The following is the list of the seven agus: (1) 
dPalle, (2) [dJGani, (3) Gongma buthsa, (4) ITaba 
miggi rab, (6) rNa yyu rna dthsal, (6) mDa dpon 
gongma, (7) dPalmoi asta". 

Both lists are from the Lower Ladakhi version. 
Certain names will be found to difler in other 
villages. It looks as if there were not much hope 
of finding the clue to this ancient zodiac. 

6. The Lokapalas.— There is some likelihood 
that the gLing cho; has always had deities for each 
of the four cardinal points. It is quite possible that 
the Indian Amoghasiddha, Vajrasattva, Ratna- 
sambhava, and Amitabha were deities of the four 
quarters before they became Dhyanibuddhas. In 
close correspondence with them we find in the 
gLing chos the following deities of the four 
quarters : Don yod grubpa. North ; rDorje sems 
dpa. East ; Rinchen byung Idan, South ; sNangba 
mtha yas, West. It is not necessary to assume 
that tliese deities were introduced from India 
together with Buddhism. It is more likely that 
the names represent an instance of mutual inllu- 
ence between pre-Buddhist Tibetan and Indian 
mythology. The name Don grub, which corre- 
sponds exactly to the Indian Siddhiirtha, was 
not necessarily introduced with Buddhism. Sid- 
dhartha was a common name in India long before 
Buddha's time, and may belong to a deity similar 
to Don grub and Don yod grubpa of Tibet. There 
are also four ' kings ' of the four quarters, who 
correspond more closely to their Indian equiva- 
lents, and may therefore have been received from 
India ; but even these have nothing to do with 
Buddhism. Like the deities mentioned above, 
they belong to the four quarters, and to nothing 
else in the gLing chos. 

7. The Tree of the World.— It is called the 
' king-willow,' or the ' far-spreading willow.' It has 
its roots in Yog klu, its middle part in Bar btsan, 
and its top in sTang Iha. It has six branches, and 
on each branch a bird with a nest and an egg. On 
the first branch there is the huge bird Khyung 
with a golden egg ; on the second, the wild eagle 
with a turquoise egg ; on the third, the bird ' white- 
head ' with a pearl-white egg ; on the fourth, the 
eagle ' white-kidney ' with a silver egg ; on the 
fifth, a snow-pheasant with a coral egg ; and, on the 
sixth, the white falcon with an iron egg. 

8. Outline of the Kesar-saga. — 

(1) Prulotjue to the saija : the creaUwi 0/ the earth. — The ' fore- 
father and his wife ' sow some seed which grows into a huge tree, 
the fruits of which are gathered into a barn. There tlie fruits 
become changed into worms, which eat one another vnitil one 
huge wonn is left. This worm becomes the child Dong ysum 
mila. The child kills an ogre with nine heads, and buildij the 
world (gLing) out of its body in seven days. Dong -ysum mila 
is married to eighteen ^Is, to whom are born the eigliteen atjti^. 
'The tigus, eager to gam riches, start for the ca.stle I'achi ilpal 
dong. Agu dPalle arrives there first of all, receives the riches, 
and hc.-irs the prophecy about what will happen in the course 
of the Kesar story. 

(■2) Birth 0/ Kesar. — Agu dPalle assists the king of heaven in his 
fight with the devil, in the 8haj)e cither of yaks or of birds. He 
is allowed to ask a boon, and a.«ks that one of the three sons of 
the king of heaven m.ay be sent to the earth as king. All the 
sons are asked, and Don grub, who is the ablest in spite of his 
youth, decides to go. He dies in heaven, and is reborn on earth 
to Gog bzang Ihanio. (The name Kesar or Kyetar is spelt in 
full skye ysar, and is said to have been given with reference to 
this story; it means the 'reborn one'.) The concei>tion arises 
from Oog bzong Ibamo's eating a hailstone, and the child is bora 



gLING CHOS 



through the ribp. It is of a most ugly shape, but at pleasure 
exchanjfes this for a beautiful shape, with sun and moon as attri- 
butes. The traitor among the agits makes some unsuccessful 
attempts to kill the child, and has to suffer himself. Together 
with Kesar, sun and moon and all kinds of animals are horn. 

(3) Kesar's marriage to aBritffuma. — Kesar meets aBruguma 
on a plain where she is gathering roots. There are a great 
number of stories as to how he teases her. iBruguma is to be 
married to the traitor among the aijus, but Kesar wins her 
through his skill in games. Her parents are disgusted when 
they see him in bis ugly shape, and treat him with contempt. 
He runs away, and iBruguma has to seek him. She is pleased 
to find him in his beautiful shape, but at once he throws it off 
and sends hail and rain. Her parents say that their daughter 
will be given to him who brings the skin of the huge yak Riri 
(this yak looks almost like a cloud), and who will bring a wing 
of the bird Nyima khj-ung bjTing (this bird looks almost like 
the sun). The agxis try ; but only Kesar succeeds. Now he is 
accepted as son-m-law, and the wedding is celebrated. (Here 
Kesar is praised even as the inventor of firearms.) 

(4) Kesar's victory over the giant of the north. — After religious 
preparations Kesar decides to start for the north to kill the devil. 
He finds it hard to have to leave ABruguma, and allows her to 
accompany him, but the queen of heaven sends her back. In 
the castle of the devil he finds a girl in an iron cage, whom 
he delivers. They have an enjoyable time together until the 
devil returns. Before his arrival Kesar is hidden in a pit which 
is dug inside the room in a miraculous way. Although the devil 
smells the presence of a human being, and although his book of 
magic assures him of it, he is soon persuaded of the contrary by 
the girl, and goes to sleep. Then Kesar is dug out again and 
kills the devil. The girl gives Kesar the food and drink of for- 
^etfulness, and in consequence of this he forgets dBrugtima, the 
land of ^Ling, and everything. 

(5) aBniguma abducted by the king of Hor. — Because Kesar 
does not return, the king of Hor starts to carry off aBmguma. 
The traitor among the agus sits on the throne of gLiiuj, and 
the other agits offer only feeble resistance. The most plucky 
among the agus is the youngest, dBu dmar lam bstan. ABru- 
guma herself goes to fight, but is sent back with ridicule. She 
has to submit and become the wife of the king of Hor. Still 
she refuses to leave the land of gLing unless the king of Hor 
solves three difficult problems. Then aBruguma hides herself in 
a stable, but she is discovered and carried away. She begins to 
love the king of Hor. ABu dmar lam bstan makes a successful 
attempt to retake her, but he is killed through the treacherv' of 
ABruguma and the traitor among the agus. (This is the Sieg- 
fried story.) Agu dPalle sends two storks with a message to- 
wards the north to Kesar. He leaves the north and soon 
reaches the land of gLing. Tlie horse arrives there before him, 
and together with tl^ horse's adventure spring sets in. 

(6) Defeat of the king of Hor. — The road to Hor, with its many 
obstacles, is described. First Kesar is led by a fox, then he 
gains the ser\ice of a dwarf. There is the door of rocks which 
opens and closes of its own accord ; there are the stones flying 
about between heaven and earth ; and the watchmen of Hor, who 
are killed in the same manner as Samson killed the Philistines 
in the hall. Kesar arrives in the shape of a beggar, and pretends 
to be the son of the smith of Hor. He is accepted after some 
difficulties and learns the trade of the smith. At a tournament 
he shows his superior power, and gains the victory in every con- 
test. He is therefore sent with a force against the approaching 
agus of gLing. On this occasion he drowns all hia followers 
from Hor, and sends the agus home again. He compels the 
smith to assist him in the fabrication of an iron chain, which is 
to be thrown on to the top of the castle of Hor. When it is finished, 
Kesar climbs to the top of the castle by means of the chain, 
kills the king of^ Hor, and regains aBruguma. On their way 
back to gLing, aBruguma's children, whom she had borne to 
the king of Hor, are offered to the door of rocks to induce it to 
open. In gLing, aBiiiguma is first punished for her treacherj', 
then she is restored to her former position, and another wedding 
is celebrated. 

(7) Kesar's journey to China. — (The Tibetan word for China— 
rgya nag — means 'the black expanse.') Kesar practises sor- 
cery until the castle of the king of China falls to pieces and the 
kingof China becomes ill. Kesar isentreated to go to China and 
heal the king. He .sends the traitor agii, Khrai thung, in his 
place. Then he starts himself. The journey is one chain of ob- 
stacles (ice and snow, hills, lakes, an ogre and an ogress, etc.). 
All are overcome, and on Kesar's approach the king of China 
becomes better. Now he refuses to keep his word, and give 
Kesar his daughter (yYui dfcon mchogmo). But the girl runs 
away with Kesar. He is, however, induced to go back again. 
Then the Chinese throw him into a pit with three dragons, which 
he does not mind much. He escapes in the shape of a fly, goes 
back to gLing, and smites the land of China with leprosy (snow 
apparently). The traitor among the agvs has meanwhile gone 
back to gLing, turned aBruguma out of the castle, and seized 
the throne. He is punished, and Kesar lives in happiness with 
his two wives. The leprosy in China is stopped by another 
journey made by Kesar to that country. 

(8) Epilogue to the Eesar-saga: the story of Kesar's boy.— 
Kesar and aBruguma have a boy called ySerri buzhung (or Shelli 
buzhung). He is married to Pimo (or Phyimo?) ySerraloan, but 
the ogre dPallepa carries this girl off. ySerri bu2h\mg starts to 
seek her, and takes service at the ogre's castle. He is soon re- 
cognized, because the dogs, horses, and other domestic animals 
increase in an extraordinary waj' under his care. Before the 
ogres have succeeded in kJlUng him, they are invited by Pimo 
ySerralcan to a feast. On this occasion the girl places nine fry- 



ing pans, in which the lives (hearts) of the nine ogres dwell, oul- 
side the door. ySerri buzhung shoots with his arrow through 
eight of them, and thus eight ogres are killed. Tlien he runs 
awa}' with Pimo ySeiTalcan and all the other girls of the ogres 
dPailepa puraies him, but is destroyed with his army. Then the 
wedding is celebrated. 

9. Is the Kesar-saga a myth of the seasons ? — 
This was tiie present writer's idea from the first. 
As he was, however, assaOed by several critics on 
account of it, he did his best to abandon it. But, 
when editing the * Lower Ladakhi version of the 
Kesar-saga' for the Bibliotheca Indica, he was driven 
back to his former position. At any rate, he cannot 
help believing that myths of the seasons {mixed up, 
perhaps, with other materials) are contained in the 
Kesar-saga. Only a few instances may be noted : 
sun and moon are attributes of Kesar's beautiful 
shape, rain and hail of his ugly shape ; he wields 
the sword of lightning 'in the middle of black 
clouds ' ; there is a full description of spring given 
on the occasion of Kesar's return to gLing (see 
above, § 8 (5)) ; the agus seem to point to an ancient 
zodiac ; winter is apparently compared to leprosy ; 
together witli Kesar s departure (probably in winter) 
the male animals leave the female ones, but leave 
them with the hope of new offspring ; Kesar's ene- 
mies are powers of darkness ; the giant of the 
north ; the king of Hor, also in the north ; China is 
'the black expanse.' 

10. Relationship to other mythologies. — As has 
become evident, there are great similarities be- 
tween the gLing chos and the mythologies of various 
Aryan nations. Tliis, however, does not mean 
much, for even the mythologies of North American 
Indian tribes have much in common with European 
mythologies. But we must call attention to 
one particularly striking incident. The story of 
the Tibetan hero with the vulnerable spot, dBu 
dmar lam bstan, who is Kesar's representative, 
is very similar to the German story of Siegfried. 
The similarities are the following : both heroes 
have the vulnerable spot on the shoulder ; both 
wear invisible caps ; both are killed when drinking 
water ; with both of them the vulnerable spot is 
pointed out by a woman who belongs to the side of 
the hero. All this is remarkable, because the cor- 
responding Greek story, for instance, is greatly at 
variance with both of them, although there is an 
ethnic relationship between the Greeks and the 
Teutons. 

11. gLing chos and Lamaism. — It is not at all 
impossible that the gLing choa should have exercised 
an influence on Lamaism. The following are a few 
instances. (1) With regard to the colours, white, 
red, and blue, there is a certain correspondence 
between the realms of heaven, earth, and under 
world on one side, and sPyan ras 72!^, AJam 
dbyangs, and Phyag rdor on the other. But with 
regard to their characters it is difficult to see a 
closer agreement. The three mchod rten of three 
different colours, white, red, and blue, seem origin- 
ally to represent the three realms of the gLing cfios^ 
but are at the present time explained as having 
been erected in honour of the three Bodhisattvas. 
If this explanation is really true, it remains a strange 
fact that the mchod rteii in the middle was always 
painted red. and not yellow ; for yellow is the cor- 
rect colour of ^am dbyangs. Thus the custom of 
erecting three mchod rten of three diSerent colours 
seems to have its roots in the gLing chos^ and in 
the Kesar-saga we often hear of the existence of 
three Iha tho of the same colours, the prototypes 
of these mchod rten of the present day. (2) The 
story of Srong-btsan Gam-po with his two wives, 
the green and the white sGrolma, may have been in- 
fluenced by the story of Kesar with his two wives. 
Thus ABruguma is addressed, * Oh, thou milk-white 
fairy ! ' and Kesar's bride from China is called 7Yui 
dkon mchogmo, the turquoise goddess. Ke^ar is 



78 



LITANY 



even called, in historical works, a suitor to the wliite 
sGrolnia. (3) There can be hardly any doubt that 
tlie system of colours as we hnd it in the fiLinq rhos 
lias influenced the pantheon of Liiniaism with its 
whit«, red, lilue, green, yellow, and golden-faced 
occupants. Still, it cannot account for all the 
ditlerent shades of colours. Some of them were prob- 
ably introduced from India. (4) Most of the deities 
of the f/Llng chos, dBangiK) rgyabzhin included, 
have been incorporated into the pantheon of Lfima- 
ism, wliere they have to be satisfied with an inferior 
rank. 

12. gLing chos and Bon chos. — The gLing chos 
was perhaps not such a pure religion of nature as 
it appears to have been from the preceding pages. 
It probably had its dark side of sujierstitions and 
sorcerj'. 'i"his dark side seems to have had its de- 
velopment down to the present day in the garb of 
the Bon i-Inm. 

13. Sacred numbers in the gLing chos.— Holy 
numbers in ihegLixg chos are o, 7, 9, and 18. But 
it is remarkable that, whilst the first three of these 
numbers are quoted without a following number, 
the 18 is often followed up by 19; e.g., 'They 
digged a pit of 18, 19 yards,' ' There appeared 18, 
19 priests.' The 19 is favoured apparently as the 
sum of 12 -f 7, the months of the year plus the 
days of the week. 

14. Animism in the gLing chos. — Here we may 
mention the following personifications : sKycfCi; 
the wind ; sbang char zilbu, the rain ; senggc 
dkarmo yyu rahan, the glacier; bya Khyung clkriing 
nyima, (apparently) the sun; byatito dkarmo, the 
nioon ; bya so mig dinar, the morning-star ; yi'an, 
spirits living in rocks and trees. It is remark- 
able that several of these personifications are men- 
tioned together with the representatives of the 
animal world. Some of such representatives are : 
iii/amo yscr mig, for fishes ; bya rgyal rgodpo, for 
bu'ds ; rKyang byung kha dkar, for horses ; aBrong 
byiing rogpo, for yaks. 

15. Festivals of the gLing chos.— ( 1 ) The io ysar, 
or New Year's festival. It is the festival of lamps 
and lights. Pencil -cedars are used for the decora- 
tion of houses. There are horse-races, and a goat 
is ofl'ered before a white Iha tho (altar of the gLing 
chos). The heart is torn out of tlie living animal 
and oflered to the Ihu. In the monasteries mask- 
dances are held, which were probably intended 
originally to show the victory of the coming spring 
over the demons of winter. Only at Hemis do the 
mask-dances take place in June, perhaps as a last 
remnant of a former festival to celebrate the 
highest point reached by the sun. (2) Storma 
fihangccs. This is the spring festival of driving 
out winter. At Khalatse a clay figure of human 
shape is carried outside the village and destroyed 
there. At other places the sjjirits of winter and 
disease are banished into magic squares of sticks 
and strings (dosmo) and destroyed outside the vil- 
lage. (3) "The Kesar-festival. The festival is 
called 'Kesar-festival' only in Upper Kanawar. 
In Ladakh it is called iitDd phangces, ' arrow- 
shooting.' It is celebrated in spring. ThugLintjr/ht 
is played and sung ; and tlie boys amuse themselves 
with arrow-shooting. There are processions round 
the fields to bless them, the /ha tho (altars) are 
decorated with fresh twigs, and pencil-cedars are 
burnt. (4) The .SVui Iha, or harvest festival. In 
Skyurbuchan the boys dance with ^loles covered 
with frngr.ant alpine flowers. Oiiermgs of grain 
are carried to the monasteries. The dates of all 
these festivals are fixed by the lamas, and the 
lamas take part in them. 

16. The names of the gLing chos. — In the 
course of this article .some of the names of the 
gLing chos are given with their English translation. 
The author has not ventured to translate all these 



names, liecause scholars are at variance with regard 
to the meanings of certain of them. In the names 
of the eighteen agiis there is always c<mtained the 
distinguishing mark of the af/ii which forms his 
head ; thus in no. 2, rt.iangsjm means ' lizard ' ; in 
no. 4, k/ui rgan means 'old immth,' i.e. a mouth 
surrounded by a white beard; in no. 1, ru. skycs 
means ' horn-producer,' or goat. As for the group 
of sitvQxiagus, wliicOi has nmch in coiiiiiion with the 
heroes of such folk-lore lis, e.g., ' Seclise kommen 
durch die ganze Welt,' in the name of no. 4 the 
ability to see clearly is indicated ; in the name of 
no. 5, the ability to hear clearly ; in no. 6, to shoot 
well. There are certain names occurring in the 
gLing chos which are not of Tibetan origin : thus 
ill the word .^enggr in the name sengge dkarmo 
yyu ralcan, ' white lioness with the turquoise hicks,' 
the personification of the glacier has sometliing to 
do with the Indian word siinha. In the name of 
the smith Hemis, who teaches Kesar, the first part 
hem seems to be the Indian word hima, 'snow.' 
We find the word hem in the sense of 'snow' also 
in the name Hembabs, which means 'snow-falling,' 
and such Indian words as rdk-ya.ia, ' monster,' Sita- 
ifim, Sita and Kama, and Indra occur occasion- 
ally in the gLing chos — which shows what an 
important jiart India has played in the shaping 
of certain tales of this ancient religion. 

LrrERATt'RE. — It must be adniitt«d that all the following piit>- 
licationa are one man's work. They have all passed through the 
present author's hands. It may, however, be pointetl out that 
in no case did he write down the texts to the dictation of a 
native : he always employed natives to record them from the 
dijtation of sucii other natives as were famous for their know- 
ledge of this ancient literature. 

(i.) Kesar-saga : ' Der Fruhlings- imd Wintennythus der 
Kesarsage,' in M^moires de la .soc((?£^ JinnO'Oitgnfnne, Helsing- 
fors, 1902, 'The Spring-myth of theKesarsaga," in lA xxxi. 
I IPl 12], ' A Lower Ladakhi Version of the Kesarsaga,' in Bibli- 
othn-a Indica, lOHb. 

(ii.) Hvmnals: *A Ladakhi Bonpo Hvmnal ' (more correctly, 
'The gLing glu of Phyang'), in lA xxx. U'JUIJ S.iOfT. ; 'gLing 
glu of Khalatse,' contained in Ladakhi Sonii.'^, Leh, Ka^uiir, 
i89fl-1003, noB. xxi.-xxx. ; 'The Paladins of the Kesarsaga,' in 
JRASBo U. [1906J 407-490, iii. [1907] 07-77. 

(iii.) Catechisms: 'The Ladakhi Pre-Buddhist Marriage Ritual* 
in I A xxx. (inoil 131 ff.; Die Trinklieder l-uh Klialalse (Tibetan 
text only, ed. A. H. Francke, Leiiizig, 1903) ; Das Hochzeits- 
rittial von 'fagmaci^j (Tibetan text only, ed. A. H. Francke, 
reprinted from an old MS discovered at Tagmacig, 19ti4). 

A. H. Feancke. 
LION.— See Animals. 

LITANY. — A litany, according to the modern 
use of the word, may be described as a devotion 
consisting of a number of short petitions or invoca- 
tions, to each of which a resjjionse is made by the 
people. It may be either said or sung, it may be 
cither processional or stationary, it may be liturgi- 
cal, i.e. connected with the celeoration of the Holy 
Eucharist, or in<lependent, and it may lie for 
regular use or useil only on special occasions. Pro- 
cessional psalmody which is not of tl'.e responsive 
form is not now usually called a litany, but at one 
time the word was applied to anytliing sung in 
procession. The modern use of the term is the 
result of a long and somewhat complicated histoi-y. 
It is especially necessary to trace the growth of 
two forms of devotion which were originally dis- 
tinct, but which have coalesced to form the modem 
litany. These are the liturgical respimsive i)ra3'er 
and the jirocession. 

I. Earliest use of the word.— The word Xiravtla 
is not common in classical (ireek, and it seems to 
be used in the quite general sense of a supplication. 
The earliest mention of the word in coiine.xion with 
Christian services appears to be by Basil (»■. .\. D. 375 ; 
Ep. ccvii. 'ad Cler. Neocies.' [Opera, iii. 311 I)]). 

objections had been raised to some innovations which Basil 
had made. 'These things were not,' the objector says, 'in the 
days of the great Gregory ' {i.e. Gregory Thaumaturgus, c. '254). 
' Neither,' replies Basil, ' were the iit-anies which you now use. 
And I do not say this by way of at:cusing you ; for I would 
that you all should live in' tears, and in continual repentance.* 



LITANY 



79 



These litanies were, therefore, penitential devo- 
tions of some kind, but there is nothing to indicate 
their precise character. The word rogatio was 
used in a similar general sense in the West. 

2. The liturgical litany. — Tlie earliest description 
of Eucharistic worship is that contained in the 
Apologies of Justin Martjr (A.D. 148). Here 
common prayers are spoken of ' lor ourselves . . . 
and for all others in every place,' immediately 
before the Kiss of Peace and the Otiertory, and 
therefore after the lessons and homilj' (Apol. i. 65). 
Whether these already took the form of the later 
litany there is nothing to show, and the response 
' Kyrie Eleison ' is not yet mentioned. And there 
is no further detailed information about the form 
of service until the liturgies which date from about 
the end of the 4th century. Here, however, the 
liturgical litany is found in the form which it has 
preserved in the Eastern Church ever since. It 
consists of a number of short petitions ofi'ered by 
the deacon, to each of which the people respond 
' Kyrie Eleison,' and the most usual place for it is 
after the Gospel, but this is not invariable. Some 
litany of this kind appears to be almost universal 
in the Eastern liturgies. Many examples will be 
found in Brightman (Liturgies Eastern and West- 
ern, esp. pp. 4, 471. 5-1 for the most ancient forms, 
all belonging to the 4th cent.). The usual name 
for these devotions in the East is not XiTa«ia, but 
iKTivri (lit. ' stretched out,' i.e. the earnest prayer), 
or amairT-q ('continuous'). There is nothing to 
show when Kyrie Eleison was first used in the 
services of the Church, but as its use is almost 
universal in the Eastern liturgies it must have 
been very early, and the expression is so natural, 
and would be so easUy suggested by passages of 
the OT, that no explanation of its introduction is 
necessary. It was also in use among the heathen, 
as was pointed out by Claude de Vert {Explication 
simple, littirale t.t historiqiie des cir&monies dc 
Veglise, Paris, 1706-13, i. 94 ; cf. Epictetus, Diss, 
ab Arriano diqestce, ii. 7). The Pcregrinatio 
Silcia; (ed. G. F. Gamurrini, Rome, 18S8, p. 47) 
mentions the Kyrie as the response made at Jeru- 
salem to the deacon's list of names, and it appears 
in the litanies mentioned above as belonging to 
the 4th century. 

3. The litureical litany in the West. — It is prob- 
able that the Western liturgies originally contained 
litanies closely similar to those of the East. This 
was certainly the case, as far as can be judged from 
their scanty remains, with the liturgies of the 
Galilean (or non-Roman) type. The extant forms 
bear the closest resemblance to the Eastern litanies, 
and may in some cases be translations from the 
Greek (see some examples in L. Duchesne, Christ- 
ian Worships, pp. 198-201 ; F. E. Warren, Liturgy 
and Ritual of the Celtic Church, p. 229). There is 
little doubt that there was originally a litany of 
the same character in the Roman liturgy also, and 
that the Kyries at the beginning of Mass are a relic 
of it. There is also another place in the service 
which should be noted. After the Gospel the 
priest says ' Oremus,' but no prayer or resjwnse 
follows ; and this was so at least as long ago as the 
8th cent., as appears from the Ordines Romani. 
Some prayers had e^-idently fallen out of the service 
even at that early date, and these were undoubtedly 
the Prayers of the Faithful, which occur in this 
place in the Eastern liturgies, and which are still 
preserved in the Roman rite in the prayers used 
on Good Friday. Probably these prayers dropped 
out of use because they were transferred, in sub- 
stance at least, to the litany which came at the 
beginning of the service. St. Gregory the Great 
{Ep. ix. 12), when speaking of the use of the Kyrie, 
mentions other devotions that accompanied it, and 
which were no 'doubt a litany. In the present 



service only the Kyrie remains, and this is curious 
because the Kyrie was probably an addition made 
to the original litany from the East, so that it 
would seem tliat the original prayers have dis- 
appeared, while the exotic response has remained. 
There is nothing to show when the Kyrie was first 
used in Rome. It was not used, as in the East, 
as the regTilar response to tlie petitions, but at the 
beginning and end of the service, and it was alter- 
nated with Christe Eleison, which was never used 
in the East. Gregory says : 

' We have neither said nor do we say Kyrie Eleison as it is 
said among tile Greeks, because in Grecian countries all say ic 
together, but with us it is said by the clerks and the people 
respond ; and Christe Eleison is said as many times, and this is 
not said at all among the Greeks ' {loc. cit.). 

The Kyrie was, therefore, in use in Rome in 
Gregory's time, but for how long before that we 
do not know. The Council of Vaison (c. iii. [A.D. 
519]), in ordering its use in the province of Aries, 
implies that it had been introduced into Italy at a 
not very distant date. The rest of the liturgical 
litany disappeared, as has been said, from the 
Roman service at some unknown date, but that 
the Kyrie was still regarded as part of a litany is 
shown by the fact that in the 8th cent, tlie Kyrie 
was omitted when there was a processional litany 
to the church. The natural conclusion of the 
introductory litany, whether processional or not, 
was the prayer in which the Bishop ' collected ' the 
petitions of the people, and which was therefore 
called CoUectio or CoUecta. But, as the Kyrie 
was omitted when there was a procession, the 
collect on these occasions was the hrst thing that 
was said after the people reached the church, and 
hence ritualists came to regard it as the prayer 
'ad Collectam plebis' — when the people are 
gathered together. Thus there arose a double 
derivation of the word ' collect ' (q.v.). 

4, Processions in the East. — During the centu- 
ries of persecution it was not likely that forms of 
devotion so conspicuous as processions would be 
used by Christians. The first historical mention 
of them appears to be in A.D. 398, iu connexion 
with the Arian controversy. The Arians, not 
being allowed to hold their assemblies in the city 
of Constantinople, used to meet in the public 
squares during the night, and to march out at dawn 
to their places of worship, singing antiphonally. 
Fearing lest the orthodox should be attracted by 
this ceremonial, St. John Chrj-sostom instituted 
counter-processions on a more magnificent scale, 
in which silver crosses and lights given by the 
empress Eudoxia were carried. These particular 
processions were prohibited by the emperor in 
consequence of the disorders which they caused, 
but the custom of using processions, especially in 
times of emergency, continued. Socrates mentions 
a legend to the effect that the antiphonal singing 
used at such times had its origin in a vision of 
Ignatius of Antioch, the third bishop from St. 
Peter, in which he saw angels singing responsive 
hymns to the Holy Trinity {HE vi. 8; Soz. HE 
viii. 8). These occasional processions were, however, 
quite distinct from the litany in the Eucharist. 

5. Processions in the West. — Processions became 
common in the Western Church at about the same 
time as in the East, but their origin appears to 
have been independent. They were probably at 
first transformations of pagan processions. The 
Roman festival of the Robigalia, intended to secure 
the crops from blight, was kept on the 25th of 
April, and the procession called the Litania Major, 
which took place on the same day, St. Marks Day, 
seems to be a direct descendant of this. Even the 
actual routes of the heathen and the Christian pro- 
cessions were nearly the same. The institution of 
the Greater Litany of St. Mark's Day has been 
generally ascribed to Gregory I., but it was prob- 



80 



LITANY 



ably earlier, and perhaps dates from the pontifi- 
cate of Liberius (352-366). The litany ordered by 
Gregory on St. Mark's Eve, a.D. 490, in order to 
avert a pestilence, seems to have been distinct from 
the Litania Major. AnotherancientRomanfestiv.il, 
the Ambarvalia, was observed on three successive 
days in the month of May, and also had tlie fertility 
of the fields as its object. There is here a close 
resemblance to the Rogation processions on the 
three days before Ascension Day. These are said 
to liave been instituted by Mamertus, bishop of 
Vienne (c. 470), on the occasion of various public 
disasters (Sid. ApoU. Ep. v. 14, vii. 1 ; Gregory of 
Tours, Hist. Franc, ii. 34) ; but such processions 
had probably been practised at au earlier date, and 
were only revived on this occasion. These rogations 
or litanies, called Litanix Minores to distinguish 
them from those of St. Mark's Day, spread rapidly 
through Gaul, and were adopted and reorganized 
at Rome by Leo UI. (795-S16). Both the Greater 
and the Lesser Litanies were ordered to be used 
in England at the Council of Cloveshoe (A.D. 747 
[A. \\ . Haddan and W. Stubbs, Councils and 
Ecclesiastical Documents relaiin/j to G^reat Britain 
and Ireland, Oxford, 1869-71, iii. 368]). It may 
be noted that in the decree of this council, and 
elsewhere, rogatio and litania are regarded as 
equivalent terms ('tetania?, id est, rogationes'), 
and also that the terms seem to include all the 
devotions connected with those days. There is no 
allusion to responsive prayer, and the only reference 
to processions is a mention of relics being carried 
about. The words ' litany ' and ' rogation ' were 
still used in quite a comprehensive sense. 

6. Mediaeval litanies. — Hitherto the liturgical 
litanies in the Mass and processions have been 
regarded as distinct. But it is easy to see how 
they would coalesce. Various kinds of singing 
have always been used in processions, but that 
particular form of responsorial singing in which 
the people answer wth an unvarying refrain was 
so naturally adapted for processional use, o>ving to 
the ease with which the retrain could be taken up 
by a moving crowd, that litanies of the type of the 
Eucharistic ectene came to be very commonly used 
in processions not only in the Mass, but on aU sorts 
of occasions. And so the word ' litany ' came to 
mean a form of prayer with a response, either pro- 
cessional or stationary, and either regular or 
occasional- As the processional use was the most 
conspicuous and popular, the word ' procession ' 
came to be used as almost an equivalent term, and 
the book which contained the mediaeval litanies 
was called the Processional. The litanies in most 
common use also assumed a regular structure. 
They consisted, as a rule, of the following parts : 
(1) the Kyrie Eleison, alternated with Christe 
Elelson ; (2) a number of invocations of saints by 
name, with the response ' Ora pro nobis ' ; (3) a 
series of short prayers against various evils, called 
Deprecations, with the response ' Libera nos 
Domine ' ; (4) prayers on behalf of various people 
and for various objects, called the Supplications, 
with the response ' Audi nos Domine ' ; (5) the 
Agnus and the Kyrie, and a collect. Such litanies 
became very popular, and Cardinal Baronius esti- 
mated in 1601 that there were then 80 difl'erent 
forms in use. The invocations of the saints just 
mentioned formed a conspicuous part of most of 
these litanies. It is not clear when these invoca- 
tions were first introduced ; it was certainly before 
the 8th cent. ; they are to be found in the Stowe 
Missal, and in a litany which probably belongs to 
the 8th cent, printed in Warren, Lit. Celt. Ch. (p. 
179), but they may be much older. Some of the 
later litanies became little more than a string of 
invocations. It has been suggested that these lists 
of saints originally grew out of a heathen formula 



recited by the Pontifex Maximus, but there appears 
to be little or no evidence for this. 

It has been noted that litanies, in the sense of 
responsive prayers, were often, though not neces- 
sarily, sung in procession, and so were commonly 
called processions. On the other hand, devotions 
sung in procession were often called litanies even 
though tney were not responsive prayers. Psalms 
and anthems were also frequently used. For in- 
stance, Bede says (HE i. 25) that at the first meet- 
ing of St. Augustine with king Ethelbert the 
missionaries approached the king in procession, 
bearing the image of our Lord upon the Cross, and 
singing litanies ; and then he specifies what they 
sang, and it was clearly an anthem, and not a 
litany in the usual modern sense. Again, the pro- 
cessions before High Mass on Sundays became, 
during the Middl" Ages, a very popular and con- 
spicuous devotion, but the psalmody was not usually 
in form a litany. In the 8th cent, at Rome it was 
so, or it was regarded as such ; for, when there 
was a procession, <is has been mentioned, the Kyrie 
at the beginning of Mass was omitted. Later on 
the Kyries became a fixed part of the service, and 
the processional psalmody took a difierent form. 
From the 12th cent., however, there was a tendency 
to use the term ' procession ' of whatever was sung 
in procession, and to confine the term ' litany ' to 
the Kyries, the Greater and Lesser Litanies of 
St. Mark's Day and the Rogation Days, and other 
similar forms. 

7. Litanies in the Roman Church. — As has been 
mentioned, a large number of litanies came into 
use in the later Middle Ages. But by a decree of 
the Holy Office, dated 6 Sept. 1601, Clement vill. 
forbade the use of any litany except tliat usually 
known as the Litany of the Saints, which had been 
included in the liturgical books. The Litany of 
Loreto had already been sanctioned in 1587. All 
others were forbidden to be used without the appro- 
bation of the Congregation of Rites. It is probable 
that this decree was never very strictly enforced, 
but it was renewed in 1727 and in 1821. A decree, 
however, of the Congiegation of Rites, dated 
23 April 1860, allowed the private use of litanies 
sanctioned by the Ordinary. The Litany of the 
Blessed A'irgin or of Loreto mentioned above was 
probably used in some form at a very early date at 
Loreto, but in its present form it perhaps dates 
from the early 15th cent., and the earliest printed 
copy known belongs to the year 1576. Another 
popular litany was that of the Most Holy Name of 
Jesus. This was perhaps also composed in the early 
15th century. It was not included in the decree of 
1601, but later 011 it received some sanction from 
the Congregation of Rites, and it was finally allowed 
by Pius IX. in 1852 for certain dioceses, and for 
universal use by Leo xill. in 1886. The Litany of 
the Sacred Heart was sanctioned in 1899. 

8. The Anglican litany. ^As the proces.sion was 
a popular form of devotion, it was natural that it 
should be one ot tlie first parts of the public services 
to be translated into English. The Prymer.^ oi the 
15th cent., books of devotion for lay people, com- 
monly contain a litany in English. The form now 
used in the English Church appeared in 1544, and 
it is no dou'ot the work of Cranmer, and jierhaps 
the happiest example of his literary style. The 
occasion of its production was given by public 
calamities. In 1543 the harvest was bad, and 
Henry VIII. wrote to Cranmer to desire that ' roga- 
tions and processions ' should be made. In the 
following year there was war with France and 
Scotland, so that the English Litany was produced 
in similar circumstances to those of the early lit- 
anies mentioned above. It was, however, also 
intended for regular use, and was printed in the 
Pniincr of 1545 and in the first English Book of 



LITERATURE (American) 



81 



Comniou Prayer of 1549. This litany was con- 
structed with great care, and several sources were 
used. Tlie chief portion was taken from the Saruni 
Rogationtide litany, and the main structure of 
this was adhered to, but the invocations of the 
saints were greatly shortened, being reduced to 
three clauses, which were themselves omitted in 
the First Prayer Book. Passages were also intro- 
duced from a Sarum litany for the dying, called 
Comniendatio Animae {also omitted in the First 
Prayer Book), and a considerable part of the 
Supplications was taken from a mediseval German 
litany which was revised by Luther in 1529, and 
published in German and Latin. This litany was 
included in the Consultatio of Archbishop Hermann 
of Cologne, and so came to England, and it was 
used for the litany in Marshall's Prymer of 1535. 
It must be noted that the English litany falls into 
two main sections : the first ends with the collect 
that follows the Lord's Prayer — a collect being the 
natural ending of a litany. What follows is a 
translation of suflVages which were added to the 
Sarum litany in time of war. The reason for 
their insertion was no doubt that war was going 
on in 1544, but they were appropriate for use at 
other times, and were retained. These suffrages 
are preceded by the antiphon and Psalm verse 
which began the Sarum Procession on Rogation 
Monday. Unfortunately, the accidental omission 
of the Amen at the end of the collect has led to the 
ridiculous custom of using the antiphon (' O Lord, 
arise, help us') as a sort of response to the collect. 
Until 1661 the conclusions of most of the collects 
were not printed in the Book of Common Prayer ; 
in the revision of that year the Aniens were printed, 
but most of the endings were omitted by mistake. 

Although in his adaptation of the old litanies 
Cranmer added little or nothing of his own, he 
made a noticeable change in the rhythm : the old 
petitions were short and simple ; Cranmer, either 
with a view to compression or, more probably, 
because he preferred sonorous periods, grouped 
several petitions together, and enriched them with 
epithets and synonyms. For instance, the Depre- 
cations of the Saruni litany begin thus : 

* From all evil — Deliver us, Lord. 

From the crafts of the devil — Deliver us. Lord. 

From thy wrath^Deli\er ug, Lord. 

From everlasting damnation — Deliver us. Lord.' 

In the new version this becomes : 

' From all evil and mischief ; from sin, from the crafts and 
assaults of the devil ; from thy wrath, and from everlasting 
damnation— Good Lord, deliver us.' 

At about the same time Cranmer intended to 
translate other processional hymns, such as ' Salve 
Festa Dies,' for he wrote to Henry VIIL in 1545 to 
say that he had done so. The attempt was prob- 
ably relinquished because he became aware that he 
did not write so skilfully in verse as he did in prose. 

The English litany has remained substantially 
unchanged since its first appearance in 1544. In 
1549 the invocations of the saints were omitted, 
and in 1559 a petition about ' the tyranny of the 
Bishop of Rome. ' ' The grace of our Lord ' was 



added at the end in the same year. In 1661 the 
words 'and rebellion,' 'and schism,' were added, 
and ' Bishops, Pastors, and ]\Iinisters of the Church ' 
was changed to ' Bishops, Priests, and Deacons.' 
The collection of collects at the end of the litany was 
altered more than once, and most of them were re- 
moved to other places in the Book of Comin o n. Prayer. 

This litany was intended to be used for all the 
purposes for which the ancient litanies were em- 
ployed. It was issued for occasional use at a time 
of distress, and it was sung in procession in the 
usual manner. Later on royal injunctions ordered 
it to be sung kneeling before RIass, and this be- 
came the usual, but not universal, practice. The 
present rubric allows either the stationary or the 
processional use. It was also related to the 
Rogationtide processions, being derived mainly 
from them, and it took the place of the Eastern 
ectene as a preparation for Mass. It was ordered 
from the first to be said on Wednesdays and 
Fridays, the ancient ' Station ' days, on which 
especially Mass was anciently said, and, although 
its use on Sundays was not specified in the rubric 
until 1552, this was probably taken for granted 
from the first. Unfortunately, this special char- 
acteristic of the litany as a preparation for Mass 
was obscured later on, partlj' by tlie placing of the 
' Grace ' at the end, and partly by the rubric of 
1661, which directs it to be said 'after Morning 
Prayer.' This made no practical difference so long- 
as Matins, Litany, and Mass continued to be said 
ill their natural order, but in recent years it has 
caused the litany to be regarded as a sort of ap- 
pendage to Matins, and in many churches has led 
to its being altogether separated from the Mass. 

9. Lutheran litanies. — As has been mentioned 
above, Luther published a revision of a mediieval 
litany in German and Latin in 1529. The original 
edition does not appear to be extant, but the 
litany was printed in the Psalm-books, and it was 
used in both languages for some time. The use of 
the Latin form seems to have died out in the 17th 
cent., and the German form, although it continued 
to be used on various occasions in North Germany, 
never became a popular form of devotion. The 
Calvinistic bodies objected to this form of service 
altogether, and the litany was one of the parts of 
the English Book of Common Prayer which were 
most disliked by the Puritans. 

LiTERATLRE. — For Eastern litanies see F. E. Brightman, 
Liturgies Eastern and Wester-n^ Oxford, 1S9G. For Western 
litanits, F. E. Warren, Litiifijy and Ritual of the Celtic 
Church, do. 1881 ; C. Wordsworth, Ceremonies and Proces- 
sions of . . . Salisbtiri/, Co.mhr'ui'^e, 1^)01; Sarunt I'rocessianal 
(ed. W. G. Henderson), Leeds, lSS'.i ; York Processional, Surtees 
Societ^■, London, 1875 ; E. Hoskins, Sarum and York Primers, 
London, 1901 ; H. Littlehales, The Prymer, do. lSfl5 ; 
Ordines lioiaani, in Migne, PL lx.xviii. 937 flF. For the Kyrie, 
E. Bishop, ' Kyrie Eleison.'in Doumside F-ivieir, Dec. 1899 and 
March 1900 : S. Baumer, Gesch. des Breviers, Freihtirg im Br., 
1895, esp. pp. 128, 154. For a history of the !ilan>-, F. Procter 
and W. H. Frere, Sew History oj the liouk of Cumnwn Prayer, 
London, 1901 ; L. Pullan, History 0/ the Book uf Common 
Prayer, do. 1900; J. H. Blunt, Ann"tated Book of Cominon 
Prauer, rev. ed., do. 1895 ; L Duchesne, Christian Worship-', 

do. 1903. J. H. Maude. 



LITERATURE. 



American (H. B. Alexander), p. 81. 
Babylonian (C. Bezold), p. 83. 
Buddhist (A. A. Macdonell), p. 85. 
Celtic— See Arthurian Cycle, Bards, Celts, 

CdcHULAiNN Cycle. 
Chinese (P. J. Maclagan), p. 89. 
Christian.— See Bible, Bible in the Church, 

Devotion and Devotional Literature. 
Dravidian (R. W. Frazer), p. 91. 

LITERATURE (American).- The literature of 
the aborigines ■ of America may conveniently be 
treated under two topics, viz. purely autochthon- 
VOL. VIII. — 6 



Egyptian (J. Baikie), p. 92. 
Indian Vernacular (G. A. Grierson), p. 95. 
Jewish (I. Elbogen), p. 97. 
Muslim.— See Qur'an. 
Pahlavi (L. H. Gray), p. 104. 
Persian.- See A vesta. 

Vedic and Classical Sanskrit (M. Bloomfield), 
p. 106. 

ous Iiterai"y expression, and works produced under 
Caucasian infiuence. 
I. Autochthonous literature. — This gioup in- 



82 



LITERATURE (American) 



eludes songs, orations, stories, legends and myths, 
rituals and jiossibly dramas, and tlnoniiles. The 
sources of this literature are mainly oral tradition, 
though this tradition is fortilieil in many cases by 
ninemonir records, the most curious of which arc 
iheqniptix — knotted and coloured cords— emploj-ed 
by tlie Peruvians. Petroglyphs and pictographs 
were widespread, and reached a considerable de- 
velopment in the direction of abstract symbolism, 
while among the Mayas, Aztecs, and other Mexican 
tribes they clearly gained the staf^e of hieroglyphic 
writing. Little progress has been made, however, 
towards the decipherment of the Mexican codices, 
except perha|)s with respect to calendric computa- 
tions, while the pictographic recordsof other Indian 
peoples depend for their interpretation upon indi- 
vidual initiation into the meanings intended. Such 
records as we have, therefore, are mainly transcrip- 
tions from oral expression. 

American Indian songs are so intimately con- 
nected with American Indian music that they 
will be treated nnder art. Mu.?ic (American). 
Simil.arly, American Indian rituals, which are 
largely composed of cycles of songs and chants, 
will be treated under Skcret Societies (Ameri- 
can) and Pk.wer (American). Oratory was an 
art of prime importance among the many tribes 
who conducted their internal affairs by means of 
councils where the spoken word decided tribal 
policies. Gravity of mien and strict decorum 
characterized the orator, but his expression was 
often intensely passionate, and there is abundant 
testimony from white hearers to the power and 
eloquence of American Indian oratory, of which 
many fragments are preserved in scattered reports. 
More systematic records have been made of myths 
and legends, which are often documents of con- 
siderable length and no mean artistry. Their 
comparative stability of form under oral trans- 
mission may be studied in records of identical 
myths taken from different tribes (<".</., the three 
versions of the ' Iroquoian Cosmology,' recorded 
by J. N. B. Hewitt, 21 liBEW ["1899-1900]). 
Legends of a historical character (as, e.g., the 
legend of Hiawatha) give place in some tribes to 
conscious chronicles, or year-counts (see esp. G. 
Mallery, 10 RliEW 11888-89], ch. x. ; J. Mooney, 
17 RBEW f 1895-96], 'Calendar History of the 
Kiowa'). Mooney (iy i?iV£ir [1897-98], 'Myths 
of the Cherokee^) cla.ssiRes Cherokee myths as 
sacred ms'ths, animal stories, local legends, and 
historical ti-aditions. He traces many animal 
stories that have passed as of Negro origin to 
American Indian sources (notably the ' Brer 
Rabbit' stories of Joel Chandler Harris), and it 
is certain that the American Indians possessed 
tales designed for entertainment, often of a humor- 
ous character, as well as others intended for 
edification. 

The artistic qu.ility of which American Indian expression is 
capable ma\ be 8U;.'b'esled by a few examples. A. C. Klttcher {S7 
BBEW l\'Mi-Oa], p. 431) records an Omaha song of four verses 
(or, with repetitions, seven), which she translates : 

' No one has found a way to avoid death, to pass around it ; 
those old men who have met it, who have reached the pl.ace 
where death stands waiting, have not pointed out a way to 
circumvent it. Death is dithcuJt to face ! ' 

This Bonp is set to a moving native melody, which has been 
harmonized by Harvey Worthin^ton Looni'is (' Lvrica of the 
Red Man," Newton Center, Mass., 19c:i. vol. ii. no. 2). 

An impressive example of Indian eloquence is the speech of 
Smohalla recorded by Mooney (Ii RliEW 11892-93). p. V2l)f.), 
uttered in reply to the white commissioner's request that the 
Wanapum settle down to OfrricuUure. The following is a frag- 
ment of Smohalla's peroration : 

' You ask me to plough the ground I Shall I take a knife and 
tear my mother's bosont r Then when I die she will not take 
me to her bosom to rest. 

You a»k me to dig for stone 1 Shall I dig under her skin tor 
her bones? Then when I die I cannot enter her body to be 
born again. 

You ask roe to cut grass and make hav and sell it, and be 
rich like whit« men ! But how dare I cut oif my mother's hair ? ' 



In the Iroquoian creation myth, there is a somewhat subtle 
humour in the account of the fall of Ataentsic, the demiurgic 
Titancss, from the Sky-world to the chaos of nether waters : 

'.So now, verily, her body continued to fall. Her body was 
falling some time before it emerged. Now, she was surprised, 
seemingly, that there was light below, of a blue color. She 
looked, and there seemed to be a lake at the spot toward which 
she w,as falling. There was nowhere any earth. "There she saw 
many ducks on the lake, whereon they, being waterfowl of all 
their kinds, floated severally about. Without interruption the 
body of the woman-being continued to fall. 

Now, at that time the waterfowl called the Loon shouted, say- 
ing : "Do ye look, a woman-being is coming in the depths of 
the water, her body is floating up hither." They said : "\'erily, 
it is even so." Now, verily, in a short time the waterfowl called 
Bittern said : " It is true that ye believe that her body is float- 
ing up from the depths of the water- Do ye, however, look 
upward." All looked upward, and all, moreover, said : " Verily, 
it is true "'(Ji RDEW, p. lT9f.). 

With this mav be contrasted a fnogment of the Navaho myth 
of the creation of the sun (»' RDEW [1886-8"), pp. 2T5-277), 
which is not without a touch of grandeur : 

' The people then saio, " Let us stretch the world " ; so the 
twelve men at each point expanded the world. The sun con- 
tinued to rise as the world expanded, and began to shine with 
less heat, but when it reachea the meridian the heat became 
great and the people sur..'red much. They crawled everywhere 
to find shade. Tlien the voice of Darkness went four times 
around the world telling the men at the cardinal points to go on 
expanding the world. " I want all this trouble stopped," said 
Darkness ; '* the people are suflfering and all is burning ; you 
must continue stretching." ' 

The more civilized Indian peoples of Me.xico, 
Central America, and Peru show a corresponding 
advance in formal literary composition. The 
Aztec rituals recorded by B. Sahagun (Hi.^toria 
general de la.i cosas de Nueva Espcina, Mexico, 
18'29) are dignified and ornate, and often imbued 
with a sombre and haunting beauty. The as- 
sembled lore of these more advanced peoples must 
have comprised a considerable body of legends, 
chronicles, oracles, spells, calendric computations, 
laws, etc., judging from the fragments which are 

fireserved, while tlie existence of a secular artistic 
iterattire is probable. Brinton is of the opinion 
that tlie Central Americans possessed an autoch- 
thonous dramatic art (see Library of Aborigiiml 
American Literature, no. iii., 'The Giiegiience, a 
Comedy Ballet in the Nahuatl-Spanish Dialect of 
Nicaragua,' Philadelphia, 1883) ; and Clements 
Markham regards the 'Ollantay' as an example 
of a preSpanish dramatic literature (see Markham, 
The Imas of Pern, London, 1910, which contains 
a translation of this drama). For this literature 
of the semi-civilized nations see the artt. Andeans, 
Chilan Bal.\m, DliAMA (American), PoroL VuH. 
2. Literature produced under white influence. — 
This class consists of (1) works in the native 
languages, and (2) works by American Indian 
■authors in European lan^iages. (1) Works of 
the iirst type include translations of the Bible and 
other works by white missionaries and teachers, 
and native records of native ideas made after a 
system of writing had been acquired. Of the 
latter, perhajis the most notable instance is the 
Cherokee literature in the native alphabet invented 
by Sequoya. A large number of periodicals — some 
under native, some tinder missionary, editorship, 
some in the native tonjiues exclusively, some part 
English, some wholly English — have ajipeared or 
are now appearing for the expression of ,\merican 
Indian ideas. For the growing body of aboriginal 
records — chiefly myths, rites, and chronicles — ap- 
jiearing in the Heports of the American Bureau of 
Ethnolog;! and elsewhere special modilications of 
the Koiiian alphabetic signs have been invented 
and systematized for the expression of the native 
tongues. 

(2) A certain number of Indians or part-Indians 
have distinguished themselves in their literary 
mastery of European tongues. The names of 
Gaicilasso de la\ega, Inca-Spanish in blood, and 
of Fernando de Alva Ixtlilxochitl, descendant of 
the caciques of Tezcuco, are notable a.s authorities 
for the native customs and histories of Peru and 



LITERATURE (Babylonian) 



83 



Mexico respectively. To these might be added 
the names of Tezozomac, Chiraalpahin Quauhtle- 
huanitziii, Nakuk Pech, and Fernando Hernandez 
Arana Xahila, Mexican and Central American 
post-conqviest chroniclers of native history (see 
respectively E. K. Kin^sborough, Antiquities of 
Mexico, ix., ' Cronica Mexicana'; R. Simeon, 
Annates dc San Anton Hhinon Chimalpahin 
Quauhtlchuanitzin, Paris, 1889 ; D. G. Brinton, 
Library of Aboriginal American Literature, i., 
' The Slaya Chronicles,' vi. ' The Annals of the 
Cakchiquels '). In N. America, George Copway 
(Kagigegabo, 1818-63) was the author of several 
books, dealing chiefly with his own people, the 
Ojibwa, while Charles A. Eastman (Ohiyesa, 
b. 1858) is the author of essays and stories por- 
traying the native life and ideals of his Siouan 
kinsfolk. 

LiTBRATURB. — Bibliographical details are given in the Hand- 
book of American Indians, Bull. SO of the American Bureau 
of Ethnolotry, Washington, 1907-10, under ' Books in Indian 
Languages," ' Bible Translations,' * Dictionaries,' * Periodicals ' ; 
see also 'Copwaj',' 'Eastman,' 'Sequoya.' Scattered through 
the Reports and Btdletins of the Bureau are many texts and 
translations of myths, songs, and rites ; the files of the JAFL 
are rich in similar material. Dther collections of in^portance 
include E. K. Kingsboroug-h, Antiquities of Mexic", 9 vols., 
London, 1830-48 ; D. G. Brinton, Library o/ Aborirjinal ArtUiri- 
can Literature, 8 vols., Philadelphia, 1882-90; J. G. Icaz- 
balceta, Nueva Coleccirm de documentos para la Historia 
de Mexico, 5 vols., Me.xifo, 1SS6-92 ; E. Seler, Gesammettc 
Abhandlungen zur amerihanischen Sprach- ulid Altcrtum^- 
kunde, 3 vols., Berlin, 1902-08. Yearly increasing material is 
to he found in the Comptes rendusdu Con<jres international des 
Ajn^ricanistes, Paris, etc. ; the Memoirs and Papers o/ the 
Peabody Museum, Cambridge, Mass. ; the Memoirs of the 
American Musettin of Xaturai History, New York ; the Memoir.^ 
of the American Folklore Society, New York ; the Publications 
of the Field Columbian iluseinn, Chicago ; of the Universitt/ of 
California. Herkeley, Cal. ; of the Unii^ersity of Pennsylcania 
Museum, PhiKadelphia; the Contributions of Colu.nbia Uni- 
versity, New York, etc. Of the nature of bibliographical guides 
are H. H. Bancroft, Natice Races of the Pacific Coast, New 
York, 1875, vol, i. p. xviiff., 'Authorities quoted * (cf. also vol. 
iii. 'Myths and Languages'); Justin Winsor, Narrative and 
Critical History of America, Boston, 1886-89, vol. i. 'Biographi- 
cal Appendix ' ; The Literature of A ou-rican History, ed. .J. N. 
Lamed, Boston, 1902 ; L. Farrand, The Basis of American 
History, laOO-1900, NewTork, 1904, pp. 272-289; H. Beuchat, 
Manuel d' arcMoloifie am^ricaine , Paris, 1912. See ' Literature ' 
under artt. Andeans, Chilan Balah. Music (American), Popol 

vcTH. H. B. Alexander. 

LITERATURE (Babylonian).— Our luiowledge 
of Babylonian-Assj'rian literature has been gained 
chiefly by excavations. Only a few monuments 
are extant on rocks, among them the famous bilin- 
gual inscriptions of the Achferaenian kings, from 
the study of which the decipherment of the Baby- 
lonian script and language started. The statues 
of kings and deities, the colossi of bulls and lion.s, 
slabs, prismoids, cylinders, and various smaller 
objects of art inscribed with Babylonian legends 
are, as far as hitherto disinterred, not very numer- 
ous in comparison with the thousands of clay 
tablets which served the ancient Babylonian and 
Assyrian jniests to record the deeds of the rulers 
of those Empires, to chronicle their historical 
events, to fix the common prayers, incantations, 
and religious rites, to place the outcomes of their 
superstitious belief in certain sj-stems, and to trans- 
mit very ancient myths and legends to posterity. 

As a matter of fact, these documents are not 
throughout conceived in the Semitic tongue of 
Babylonia. It is now well known that in the third 
millennium before our era the fertile alluvial plain 
of the twin rivers enclosing Mesopotamia, the 
Euphrates and the Tigris, was inhabited by a non- 
Semitic race called the Sumerians, and to them 
must be attributed the primitive culture of that 
country, the building of its earliest cities, the first 
works of art in Western Asia, and the invention 
of the cuneiform script, the development of which 
out of a picture writing can still be traced. At 
what time Semitic, i.e.. Babylonian, tribes invaded 



Sumerian territory, and how the process of amalga- 
mation between the two races developed, cannot 
as yet be ascertained. It may be fairly assumed, 
however, that at the time of the Babylonian king 
fjammurabi, who replaced the various feudal 
governments of his predecessors by a vast Baby- 
lonian Empire under one sceptre (c. 2000 B.C.), that 
process had come to a standstill, and subsequently 
the Sumerian literature was gradually superseded 
by that of the Babylonian-Assyrians. As, how- 
ever, the religious hymns and psalms composed by 
the Sumerian writers were adopted by the Semites, 
forming part of their liturgy and subsequently 
translated bj' the priests into their native tongue, 
Sumerian was studied as a sacred language by the 
Babylonians and Assyrians, and its literature was 
carefully preserved and handed down to posterity, 
just as in mediiBval and modern times the Latin 
language is treated and used as the language of 
the Church. 

Sumerian literature is dealt with in this art. in 
so far as it forms part of the Babylonian-Assyrian 
incorporated therein. Babylonian literature actu- 
ally begins in the time of yiammurabi, whose in- 
scriptions (with one exception) and whose famous 
collection of laws (.see Law [Babylonian and 
Assyrian]) are conceived in pure Semitic Baby- 
lonian. Before entering into a detailed enumera- 
tion of the various branches of that literature, 
attention must also be called to the fact that the 
difl'erence between the Babylonian and the Assyrian 
languages consists merely in dialectic varieties, so 
that Babylonian and Assyrian literature, practi- 
cally speaking, are to be considered as identical, 
and are diUcrentiated only by the respective time 
of their origin during one of the great monarchies 
of Western Asia — the Old Babylonian Empire, the 
Assyrian Empire, and the Neo-Babyloniau Empire. 

The history of the ancient East can now be 
authentically reconstructed from the historical in- 
scriptions or the Babylonian-Assyrian literature. 
To the great kings of those monarchies the gaining 
of immortality Ijy means of a careful tradition of 
their exploits, their succe.ssful campaigns, and 
liuilding operations appeared most desirable, and 
so they caused tlie records of those deeds to be 
inscribed on a number of clay prisms, on cylinders 
and tablets, and on the animal colossi at the en- 
trances of tlieir palaces. The great extent of such 
texts is illustrated by a recently discovered tablet, 
on which the events of a single year (714 B.C.) are 
recorded so minutely that an English translation 
of the text would fill five columns of the London 
Times. Long praj-ers supplement the historical 
contents of these inscriptions, interspersed with 
the enumeration of the titles and abilities, virtues 
and religiousness, of the royal personages therein 
glorified. As a rule, the contents are arranged 
according to the years of reign or the campaigns, 
in chronological order, followed by an account of 
the building operations and, in some cases, of the 
hunting matches of the respective kings, while, at 
the end of the inscriptions, the blessing of the 
great gods is invoked upon a successor preserving 
the document, and their wrath upon its destroyer. 
To the historical documents must also be assigned 
the branch of the epistolary literature dealing with 
public ali'airs. It is from an extended correspon- 
dence between Hammurabi and one of his highest 
oificials that an exact knowledge of the reign of 
the first Semitic ruler in the united Babylonian 
kingdom is gained — his personal care for the 
welfare of his vast dominion, the building of corn- 
houses and dj'kes under his auspices, the regula- 
tion of the temple-taxes, and the use of intercalary 
months by order of the crown. Of no less import- 
ance are tlie docaiuents of a corres]iondence carried 
on in the middle of the second millennium between 



84 



LITERATURE! (Babylonian) 



tlie Phaiaohs of E^'yi't. t'leii nilers of the wliolo 
civilized worlil, and" llio Idngs of Western Asia, 
includinf,' Palestine, the Plwcnician ports, and the 
island of (jvprus, whieli have become generally 
known as the Toll el-Aniarna find. lietters, pvo- 
elaniations, petitions, accounts of building opera- 
tions, and short notes accompanying reqviisites for 
war were in constant use down to the end of the 
Neo-Babylonian Empire, and are of a historical 
value similar to that of the royal inscriptions 
mentioned above and various so-called 'epigraphs' 
wliich were added to the numerous bas-reliefs on 
the walls of the palaces, illustrating the kings' 
campaigns and other achievements. 

Babylonian-Assyrian literature in the narrower 
sense of the word has become known chiellj' from 
the documents preserved in a great Royal Library 
founded at Nineveh by Ashurbanipal, the last 
great king of the Assyrian Empire, who reigned 
from 668 to 626 B.C. and was called Sardanapalos 
by the Greek writers. This Library, generally 
knowTi as the Konyunjik Collection, the various 
jiortions of which have been secured since the 
middle of last centuiy for the Trustees of the 
British Museum by Sir Henry Rawlinson and 
other English scholars, consists of copies and trans- 
lations of ancient Babylonian and Sumerian works, 
and deals with every branch of wisdom and learning 
then appreciated by the Assyrian priests, who, by 
command of their royal patron, collected and cata- 
logued, revised and re-copied, the various texts 
which had been gathered from the oldest cities 
and temple archives of the whole land. Recent 
excavations have in some instances also brought 
to light a number of hymns and prayers, certain 
omen-texts, and a few astrological inscriptions 
which must be attributed to an earlier period than 
that of Ashurbanipal, and apparently belonged 
to the mass of original documents from which tlie 
copies in tlie Library were made ; and the same 
may be said of certain collections of the Neo- 
Babylonian time, in which, again, copies from 
the Kouyunjik Collection have been found. An 
exact idea of the literary achievements of tlie 
Babylonian - Assyrians, hoM'ever, can be formed 
only by a perusal of the contents of the Library 
itself. Such a perusal yields the following results. 

Apart from the epistolary literature, a few drafts 
for royal inscriptions, and numerous commercial 
texts — the last extending from early Babylonian 
times down to the beginning of our own era — 
Assyrian literature was devoted chiefly to super- 
stitious belief, to religious rites and ceremonies, 
incantations and prayers, and, in close connexion 
with both branches, to medicine, astrology, and 
philology. 

A large proportion of the documents here con- 
cerned deal with the appearance and actions of 
various animals, and it has been justly remarked 
that in these inscriptions survivals may he seen 
of a very ancient animal-cult — reminding one of 
certain parallels in Egypt — which in later times 
seems to have been superseded by an exquisitely 
astral religion. Closely connected with these ani- 
mal omens are the numerous and systematically 
arranged texts bearing on monstrosities and other 
unusual features of births, as well as the large 
collections of docmnients dealing with the in.spec- 
tion of the liver of an immolated wether. The 
movements of various birds, the actions of dogs 
and pigs, the hissing of a snake, and the invasion 
of locusts were especially observed for the com- 
pilation of such omen-texts. Another means of 
divination used by the Babylonians was pure 
water, into which a small quantity of sosame-oil 
was poured, so as to produce the well-known 
interference-colours, re-discovered by Newton, and 
certain structures of rings and bubbles, from which 



the events of the future were jiiedicted. The 
link between these forecasts and the religious 
texts must be sought in the medical iirescriptions, 
which were laid down and redacted inlo a kind 
of pharmacopreia. Various diseases, arranged 
according to tlie limbs and members attacked, are 
enumerated in these collections, and the draughts, 
decoctions, and other therapeutics .-ire described 
in detail. Mental disorder was attributed to the 
influence of evil spirits, and on this account the 
medical texts are frequently interspersed with in- 
cantation forraulaj which otherwise constitute a 
class of literature by them.selves. Three or four 
' series ' of tablets containing siich incantation- 
texts, accompanied by directions for the respective 
ciM'emonies, hiive become known to us. They are 
chiefly directed against the pernicious actions of 
witches and sorcerers, sirp)iOsed to be neutralized 
by destroying the images of these witches, mostly 
by burning. In the majority of cases the text of 
these incantations is in the interlinear bilingual 
style, i.e. in Assyrian and Sumerian; and in 
several instances it can be proved that the Su- 
merian original has been taken over from ancient 
sources, poi"tions of which still exist. On the 
other hand, it can hardly be denied that the 
Semitic Assyrian priests themselves also composed 
such interlinear texts, using the Sumerian lan- 
guage, then long extinct, in much the same way as 
mediaeval monks used Latin. Moreover, even pure 
Sumerian texts without an interlinear Assyrian 
version are pre.served in Ashurbanipal's Library — 
a fact from which it may be concluded that such 
incantations even at his time were recited in the 
old sacred language. And the same holds good 
of the psalms, litanies, and other forms of prayers 
which are written either in Sumerian only or ac- 
coiiiiiaiiied, in Assyrian times, by a Semitic version. 
Whilst the incantation-texts, however, are mostly 
]ireserved as parts of certain literary compositions 
or 'series,' the prayers and similar religious docu- 
ments stand for the most part isolated, and only 
by their style can they be recognized as belonging 
to various classes. Of such, the prayeis called 
after 'the lifting of the hand,' the hymns exhibit- 
ing a parallelism of members, the litanies addressed 
to certain deities, and the compositions showing 
acrostics may be mentioned as specimens. 

Of special interest among the religious texts are 
the legends and myths, of which a number of 
' series ' have been discovered. A few of them, as, 
r.g., the Babylonian Creation Legend and the 
Deluge Story, both of which have parallels in the 
OT, can be proved to reach as far back as the Old 
Babylonian period. It cannot be ascertained at 
present, however, at what time the account of the 
Deluge was incorporated in a great national epic, 
the so-called Gilgamesli Epic, which is founded on 
astral religion and seems to refer to the life in 
the nether world. Similarly the ' Descent of the 
goddess Ishtar to Hades,' an isolated poem pre- 
served in Ashurb.anipal's Library only, appears to 
depict nature's death in the autumn and its resus- 
citation in the spring, and the story of Nergal, the 
lord of tombs, and his consort, the goddess Erish- 
kigal, likewise contains a description of the abode 
of the dead. Immortality was not granted to 
mankind, as we learn from another myth, the 
story of a pious man called Adapa, who, being 
misled by chance, refused to partake of the food 
of life and the water of life, wliich were oli'ered to 
him in heaven. 

As has already been remarked, it may be con- 
cluded from the Gilgamesh Epic and fmm other 
mythological texts that in the Assyrian time at 
least an astral religion was reigning in the valley 
of the Hluphrates and Tigris. This appears to be 
borne out by another branch of Baby Ionian- Ass vrian 



LITERATURE (Buddhist) 



85 



literature, viz. the astrological texts. A large 
composition, comprising at least 70 tablets, is de- 
voted to observations of the movements of the 
celestial bodies, including atmospheric phenomena, 
such as thunder-storms, hurricanes, and earth- 
quakes, and to the forecasts taken from such 
observations and referring to the welfare of the 
king, the devastation of temples and palaces, the 
growth of vegetation, and the increase of cattle 
and other animals. ,\s early as in the 7th cent. 
B.C. the.se astrological documents were paralleled 
by purely astronomical texts, dealing with the 
heliacal risings and the culminations of luminous 
fixed stars and constellations, w'hile of the Neo- 
Babylonian time documents with astronomical ob- 
servations and calculations have been found which 
hear witness to the highly developed faculties of 
the later Babylonians for determining the velocitj- 
of the sun and moon, the length of the year, and 
the revolution of the five planets then known. 

An equally high standard was attained by the 
Babylonian and Assyrian priests in grammar and 
lexicography. Those sacred Sumerian iucanta- 
tion-texts, hymns, and prayers must have early 
prompted the protectors of religious traditions to 
collect helps for studying the extinct sacred tongue, 
and in course of time such investigations necessarily 
involved a study of the Semitic native language of 
those priests as well. Paradigms of verb-forms, 
lists of synonymous words, and, above all, large 
collections of Sumerian ideographs explained ac- 
cording to their pronunciation and meaning have 
thus been handed down. And the numerous lists 
(if names of animals, stones, plants, and wooden 
objects, of star.s, temples, and deities, atl'ord a clear 
insight into the wisdom and work of the philo- 
logists, by whom the oldest colleges on earth w-ere 
founded and literary tradition was first carried on. 

Babylonian literature was deeply influenced, o^- 
has been showp, by its older Sumerian sister, and 
the Assyrians, in developing it, seem to have 
played a role similar to that plaj'cd in later cen- 
turies by the Syrians who conveyed Greek learn- 
ing to tlie nearer East. On the other hand, the 
cuneiform Babylonian script spread all over Western 
Asia, and the Hittite and Mitanni nations, the 
Chaldic tribes, and the Canaanites appear to have 
adopted it in one or other form, and certainly be- 
came familiar to some extent with the literary 
documents of the Babylonian people. Babylonian 
legends found their way to the ancestors of the 
Israelite tribes, and similar Babylonian documents 
were studied in the middle of the second millennium 
by the learned priests of the Egyptian Pharaohs. 
Finally, the late Assyrian omen and astrological 
texts wandered to the East as far as China, left 
rem.arkable traces in the Indian literatiuc, and 
were tran.smitted to Greece, where actual trans- 
lations of such texts have been found. In this 
way also Babylonian literature has in the last 
instance influenced Christianity, and has left it^ 
marks throughout mediaeval times down to the 
present day. 

LiTERATCRH. — L. W. King, A History of Sinner and Akkad, 
London, 1910; E. A. W. Budge .and L W. King, Animls of 
the KingsofAs^ria, do, 1902 ; J. A. Knudtzon, Die El-Amarna- 
Tafeln, Leipzig, 1907-14 ; J. Kohler and A. Ungnad, Assyrische 
Rechtsurkuiiden, do. 1913; C. Bezold, Ninive laui Babyltrji^, 
Bielefeld and Leipzil,^ 1909 ; J. Hunger, Babylonisdie Tier- 
omina, Berlin, 1909; F. Kiichler, Bcitrd'je zur Kenntnis dee 
assyrisch-hahylonischen Medizin, Leipzig, 1904; M. Jastrow. 
Die Retigimi Babyloniens und Assyriens, Giessen, 1902-13 ; 
F. X. Kugler, Sternkunde und Sterndienst in Babel, Miiiister. 
1907-14 ; C. Bezold and F. Boll, Reflexe astrolog. Keilin- 
schriften bei griech. Schri/tsteltem, Heidelberg, 1911 ; R. W. 
Rogers, Cuneifonn Parallels to the OT, New York, 1912. 

C. Bezold. 
LITERATURE (Buddhist).— The sacred canon 
of Buddhism has been handed down in two forms. 
One, written- in Pali and preserved in Ceylon, 



Burma, and Siam, contains the doctrine of the 
older school, the Hinayana (' Little Vehicle' ; see 
art. Hinayana), the chief aim of which is to attain 
arhat-ship or the release of the individual from 
sufl'ering. It is the canon of one sect onlj-. The 
other, the Sanskrit canon, which is later, is not 
extant in any complete example, but is known 
only from fragments found during recent years in 
Central Asia by M. A. Stein, A. Griinwedel, and 
A. von le Coq, partly also from quotations in other 
Buddhist Sanskrit texts, as well as from Chinese 
and Tibetan translations. The chief texts of the 
Sanski'it Mula-sarvastivadins, who belonged to the 
older Buddhism, were translated from Sanskrit 
into Chinese in the years a.d. 7U0-712. This canon 
agrees largely with the Pali canon both in wording 
and in arrangement. But there are also various 
divergences. These are to be explained by the 
descent of both from a common original in the 
Jlagadhi dialect, from \\hich the Pali canon was 
derived in one part of the country, and the Sanskrit 
canon, later, in another. While the other sects 
had no complete canon, each regarded as specially 
sacred one or more texts, which either incorporated 
parts of or replaced a theoretically acknowledged 
canon. The great bulk of these Sanskrit Buddhists 
belonged to the new school of^ the Mahayana 
('Great Vehicle'; see art. Mahayana), the chief 
aim of which was the attainment of the condition 
of a Bodhisattva, or future Buddha, who brings 
nirvana within the reach of the entire human race. 

The forms of Buddhism preserved in Pali and in Sanskrit have 
commonly been called ' Southern ' and ' Northern ' respectively 
because the former prevails in Ceylon, Burma, and Siam, and 
the latter in Nepal, Tibet, China, and Japan. The distinction 
thus made is misleading, since all Buddhist canonical literature 
arose in the North of India. The P.ali canon contains no 
reference to the South, and the term ' Northern ' confuses sects 
by the erroneous implication that it excludes the older school 
of the Hinayana. It is, therefore, more appropriate to speak 
of *Pali Buddhism' and 'Sanskrit Buddhism.' 

The languages in which the two canons were composed 
require to be more precisely defined. Pali is the sacred language 
common to the Buddhists of Ceylon, Burma, Siam, and 
Cambodia, but Pali MSS are wTitten in the four different 
alphabets o! those countries, while it has become the regfular 
practice to print European editions of P.ali tests in Roman 
characters. The Pali language in which the tests have been 
handed down cannot be identical with the dialect in which the 
canon of the 3rd cent. B.C. was composed ; the latter could only 
have been the language of Magadha (Bihar), in which Buddha 
first preached and which must have been used by the monks of 
Pataliputra who put together the canon. Traces of such a 
Magadhi canon may be found in the Pali tests. In this 
connexion it is noteworthy that the titles of the canonical texts 
enumerated in Anoka's Bairat inscription appear in a Magadhi 
form. But Pali differs from the Magadhi which is known to ua 
from inscriptions, literary works, and grammarians. Nor is it 
identical with any other dialect. It is, in fact, an exclusively 
Buddhist literary language, which, like other literary languages, 
is the result of a mixture of dialects. Its basis is, however, in 
all likelihood Magadhi — a conclusion supported by the tradition 
that even identifies Magadhi and Piili. The language of the 
other canon is either correct Sanskrit or a Middle Indian dialect 
which, approximating to Sanskrit, is best termed ' mised 
Sanskrit ' (formerly as a rule called the ' Giitha dialect '). 

No work of Buddhist literature goes back to 
Buddha's time. But much contained in the canon 
maj' very well hand down the words spoken by 
the Master, such as the famous sermon of Benares, 
especially if we consider the tenacity of the verbal 
memory in Indian oral tradition. 

Almost the whole of the oldest Buddhist literature 
consists of short collections containing speeches, 
sayings, poems, tales, or rules of conduct, which 
are combined into larger collections, ca.Ued pitaka , 
or ' basket,' in a manner somewhat analogous to 
the formation of the sainhita of the Vedas (cf. 
Hymns [Vedic]). Three such aggregate collections, 
called the Tipitaka, form the Pali canon. 

The canon as constituted in A.^ioka's reign must 
liave undergone appreciable changes between then 
and the time when it was fixed in the 1st cent. B.C. 
in Ceylon. But thenceforward it has been handed 
down with great care. Some modifications, indeed. 



86 



LITERATURE (Buddhist) 



ranst have taken place even after the 1st cent., 
because it is otherwise dillicult to account for the 
numerous contradictions appearing in tlie canon. 
Taken as a whole, however, the Pftli Tipitaka may 
be rcj;arded as not very dilierent from the Mfmadhi 
canon of the 3rd cciit. B.C. For the ((notations 
occurring' in the Asoka inscriptions diverge only 
sliirhtly from the extant text, while the titles of 
seven text-s mentioned in one of these inscriptions 
are partly identical with, and partly similar to, 
tho.se which are found in the extant Siifta-pitri.Icit. 
Moreover, the .sculptnre.s and insiriptions of the 
monuments at ISaudii and Dhaihut {c. 200 B.C.) 
afford corroborative evidence of the existence of a 
collection not unlike the extant Si(tta-p>fiiJ.:i. But 
the earliest direct evidence that the Tipitaka as a 
whole had already assumed its present form is 
furnisheil by the Milinda-paiVia, which dates from 
the 1st cent. A.D. The age and authenticity of the 
Pali tradition are confirmed by the Sanskrit canon, 
which, as already stated, is so closely allied to it 
as necessarily to be derived from the same original. 
The texts which the sacred literature comprises 
will now be summarily described in regard to their 
chief contents. 

1. The Pali C^A'O.v.— i. Vinaya-pitaka.— The 
first of the three main divisions is the Vinnya- 
pitaka, the ' Basket of Discipline,' which supplies 
the regulations for the management of the Order 
{saitr/ha), and for the conduct of the daily life of 
monks and nuns. It includes rules for reception 
into the Order, for the periodical confession of sins, 
for life during the rainy season, for housing, cloth- 
ing, medicinal remedies, and legal procedure in 
cases of schism. Here and there are also to be 
found stories, some of which contain the oldest 
fragments of the Buddha legend, while others are 
valuable tor the light that they throw on the daily 
life of ancient India, 

2. Sutta-pitaka. — The second 'basket' is the 
Suttn-pita/ca, our best source for the dhrnnma, or 
religion of Buddha and his earliest disciples. It 
contains, in prose and verse, the most important 
products of Buddhist literature grouped in (i\e 
minor collections named nil-'iyas. The lirst four 
of these consist o( stittas, or ' lectures,' being either 
speeches of Buddha or dialogues in prose occasion- 
ally interspersed with verses. These four are 
cognate and homogeneous in character. For a 
number of snt/a.i reappear in two or more of them ; 
there is no difl'erence in the doctrines that they 
contain ; and they all show a similar mode of 
discussion, probably preserving a reminiscence of 
Buddha'.s actual nu-tliod as good as that which the 
Platonic dialogues preserve of Socrates' method. 
One of the features of the method of argument in 
these suttas is the very extensive use of parables 
and similes, which, though lacking in cogency, are 
v.iluable as throwing much light on the daily life 
of the artisans, cultivators, and merchants of the 
day. Since ea»h of these nihlt/cis contains old 
along with more recent elements of a similar 
character, there is no reason to doubt that all of 
them were formed into collections about the same 
time. 

(«) The Dlglid-vib'ii/a, or 'Collection of long 
lectures,' consists of 34 siiI/ks, each of which deals 
fully with one or more points of Buddhist doctrine. 
The very lirst, entitled liriihnmjOla-siiita, or 
' Lecture on the Brahman net,' is of very great im- 
portance for the hi.story not only of Buddhisin, 
but of the whole religious life of ancient India. 
The Buddha enumerates a large number of the 
occupations of liralimans and ascetics from which 
the Buddhi.st monk should refrain. The second, 
the Suma I'l 11(1 iihala-siittn , or ' Lecture on the 
reward of asceticism,' furnishes valuable informa- 
tiua about the views of a number of uun-Buddhistic I 



teachers and founders of .sects. The Ambnftha- 
sutta illustrates the history of caste and Buddha's 
^ittitude to that system. The Ki'itadanla-sutta, 
'Lecture on the .sharp tooth (of the Bralimans),' 
displays the relations between Brahmanism and 
Buddhism, while the Tcvijjn-suttd, 'Lecture on 
the followers of the three Vedas,' contrasts the 
Brahman cult with Buddhist ideals. The funda- 
mental doctrine of Buddliism is treated in the 
Mahaviilrnm-svtta, or ' Great lecture on causation.' 
One of the most noteworthy texts of the I'fili 
canon is the SiijCtlovadn-mitta, or 'Admonition of 
Sigala,' describing fully the duties of the Buddhist 
layman. But the most important text in the 
D'lgh't-nihdya is the lilahdparinihhana-suUa, or 
' Great lecture on the complete Nirvana,' a con- 
tinuous account of the last days of Buddha. It is 
(me of the oldest pari,? of the Tipitaka, as supply- 
ing the earliest beginnings of a biography of 
Buddha. It does not, however, all date from the 
same period, for in some passages Buddha appears 
entirely as a human being, while in others he is 
represented as a demi-god or magician. This text 
resembles the Gospels more than any other in the 
Tipitaka. On the other hand, the very title of 
the Mahajiad/ino -sutta, or ' Great lecture on the 
miracles (of Buddha),' indicates its lateness. It 
already contains the dogma of six Buddhas as 
luecursors of Gautama, and presupposes the whole 
liuddha legend. 

(Ij) The Majihima-nikaiia, or 'Collection of 
(lectures of) mi(ldle (length),' consists of 152 sermons 
and dialogues dealing with almost all points of 
Buddhist religion. "Thus Buddha is represented 
as admitting that a man may obtain nirvana even 
without being a monk, or may commit suicide if 
he acts solely for the purpose of obtaining release ; 
and as refuting the claim of Brahmans to be the 
only pure caste and asserting the purity of all four 
castes. These snttas throw light not only on the 
life of Buddhist monks, but on such matters as 
Brahman .sacrifices, v.irious forms of asceticism, 
and the relation of IJuddha to the Jains, as well as 
superstitious, social, and legal conditions prevailing 
at the time. The ditlerence in age of the snttas is 
indicated by the fact that here too Buddha some- 
times appears as a purely human char.acter and 
sometimes as a miracle-worker. 

(c) Of the 56 divisions into which the Sami/iitta- 
nikaya, or ' Collection of combined lectures,' is 
divided the last is most noteworthy, as treating 
of the four truths {sm-hcha), and containing the 
fanums Dhanuna- chakka ■ ppavaitana -sutta, the 
' Lecture on setting in motion the wheel of the 
law,' usually described as the ' Sermon of Benares.' 
Of the snttas in one of its sections some contain a 
large admixture of st.-inzas, while others consist 
entirely of verse forming short ballads of great 
poetic merit. 

(rf) The Aiignttara-iiikOj/a, or 'Collection of 
lectures arranged according to increasing number,' 
consists of over 2300 siitta.t in 11 sections, so 
arranged that in the first are treated objects of 
which there is only one kind, in the second those 
of which there are two kinds, and so on. Thus, 
the second deals with the two kinds of Buddhas. 
In this collection are found a large number of 
snttas and stanzas which occur in other texts of 
the canon, and which here even sometimes appear 
as (luotations. This alone points to a late (fate. 
But internal evidence also sliows that it was com- 
posed at a time when Buddha was already regarded 
as an omniscient demigod, if not an actual deity, 
(e) The Khndda-nikOya, or ' Collection of small 
pieces,' is a late compilation added after the 
previous ones were complete. Its contents date 
from very dilierent times ; for, while several of its 
parts belong to the latest stratum of the Pali 



LITERATURE (Buddhist) 



87 



canon, some go back to the earliest period. It is 
composed for the most part in verse, and, in fact, 
contains all the most important works of Buddhist 
Indian poetry. Of the works which it embraces 
the following may be mentioned. The Khudda- 
pdtha, or ' Short reader,' comprises nine brief texts 
to be used by the novice or as prayers in the 
Buddhist cult. The first is the Buddhist creed ; 
the second gives the ten commandments enjoined 
on monks ; and the ninth is the fine Mctta-sutta, 
in whicli kindness towards all creatures is praised 
as the true Buddhist cult. The Dhamma-pnda, or 
' Words of religion,' the most familiar and longest 
known work of Buddhist literature, is an anthology 
of maxims chiefly expressing the ethical doctrines 
of Buddliism. jNIore thanone-half of its 423 stanzas 
are found in other texts of the Pali canon. The 
Uddna, or ' Solemn utterances,' consisting of old 
verses and prose stories (probably later additions), 
is a gloritication of the Buddhist ideal of life and 
of the endless bliss of nirvana. The Itiviittaka, or 
'Sayings of Buddha,' is composed in prose and 
verse used in such a way that the same idea is 
expressed in both. Very often the verse simply 
repeats the statement of the preceding prose. The 
oldest parts of the work probably date from the 
time of Buddha himself. The Sutta-nipata is a 
collection of poetical suttas, many of which, as 
shown by internal evidence, mu^t go back to the 
beginnings of Buddhism, and have arisen at least 
among the first disciples of Buddha. They are 
im2)ortant as supplying information about the 
original doctrine of Buddha, besides representing 
an early, tliough not the earliest, stage_ of the 
Buddhalegend. The Thcra-gdtha and Theri-qathd, 
or ' Songs of monks and nuns,' are poems of great 
literary merit exalting mental calm as the religious 
ideal, and describing the value of Buddhist ethical 
doctrine from personal experience. It is quite 
possible that hfre may be included poeuis com- 
posed by some of the earliest disciples of Buddha, 
but several are much later, since they represent a 
Buddha cult like that of the Mahayana. The 
Jdtaka is a book consisting of about 5.50 stories of 
former ' births ' of Buddha in the character of a 
Bodhisattva, or future Buddha. It consists partly 
of poetry and partly of prose, but only the verse 
portions have canonical value. For a discussion of 
the work see art. .Tataka. 

3. Abhidhamma-pitaka. — The Abhidhamina- 
pitaka, or ' Basket of higher religion,' treats of 
the same subject as the Sutta-pitaka, diH'ering 
from that collection only in being more scholastic. 
It is composed chiefly in the form of question and 
answer, like a catechism. The starting-point of 
this collection appears to have been the Sutta- 
pitaka, one of the texts of which, the Anguttara- 
nikdya, may be regarded as its precursor. Its 
first beginnings seem to have been certain lists 
called mdfikds, which are already mentioned in 
the Vinaya-pitaka. 

While the Pali canon (apart from additions) 
was entirely composed in India., the non-canonical 
literature was the work of monks in Ceylon. 
There is only one important exception, the Milinda- 
panha, which must have been written in the 
north-west of India. It represents a dialogue 
supposed to have taken place between a Bud- 
dhist teacher and Menander (Milinda), the Greek 
king who from about 1-25 to 95 B.C. ruled over the 
Indus territxjry, Gujarat, and the valley of the 
Ganges. The author, whose name is unknown, 
must have lived at a time when the memory of 
this king was still fi-esh. As the Greek domina- 
tion came to an end soon after M^naiuler, he could 
hardly have been remembered for more than a 
century. That the original portion of the work, 
books ii. and iii. with parts of i. , is thus as old as 



the beginning of our era is supported by the 
fact that it bears comparison with the very best 
dialogues in the Snfta-nipdta. Books iv.-vii., 
besides difl'ering in character from the rest, are 
wanting in the Chinese translation made between 
A.D. 317 and 420. These and the other spurious 
parts are the work of learned monks in Ceylon. 

II. Sanskbit Buddbist literature.— ^\\n\e 
one ancient sect created the Pali canon, various 
later sects produced a Buddhist literature in pure 
or mixed Sanskrit, ol which many extensive works 
have been preserved, though others are known 
only through Tibetan and Chinese translations. 
The great bulk of this Buddhist Sanskrit litera- 
ture belongs to, or has been greatly influenced by, 
the later Slahayana school. That school, though 
acknowledging that the Thernvdda, or ' Doctrine 
of the Elders,' went back to Buddha, regarded it 
as inadequate, because it made nirvdna attainable 
to the few onh' through the life of a monk. In 
order to bring salvation to all humanity, the 
Mahaj'ana taught that every man could aim at 
being born as a Bodhisattva (5. y. ) ; and any ordinary 
I man, even a Pariah, could attain salvation by the 
practice of virtue and by devotion to Buddha. The 
Buddhas are now regarded as divine beings from 
the beginning, their earthly life and their nirvdtia, 
being nothing but an illusion. The Buddhas 
preceding Gautama, instead of being six, are now 
believed to be thousands or even thousands of 
millions in number ; and an innumerable ho.st of 
Bodhisattvas is revered as having for the salvation 
of mankind refrained from entering nirvdna. 
I'nder the influence of Hinduism a new mythology 
grew up in which a number of Hindu deities were 
added to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, and a 
much stronger devotion to Buddha, analogous to 
that of the Brahman Bhagavad-GUd (q.v.) to 
Krsna. Brahman doctrine influenced the develop- 
ment of Mahayanism on the philosophical side 
also. For, while the old Buddhism denied the 
existence of the ego onlj', the Mahayana doctrine 
also denied the existence of everything (expressed 
by the formula sarvaih sunyam, ' everything is 
void'), either as complete nihUism or as ideal 
nihilism (rijiidna-vdda, or ' doctrine' that nothing 
exists except ' in consciousness'). 

I. Hinayana. — The large realist sect of the 
Sarvastivadins ('followers of the doctrine that 
everything is '), besides having an extensive litera- 
ture, possessed a Sanskrit canon, of which, how- 
ever, only fragmentary parts of the Uddna-var^a, 
Dharmapada, and Ekottardgama (correspondmg 
to the Pali Uddna, Dhamnuipada, and Aitguttara- 
nilcdya) have as yet been discovered. The Maha- 
vastu, or ' Book of great events, ' is a text of the 
Lokottaravadins (' followers of the doctrine ' that 
the Buddhas are 'supernatural beings'), a sub- 
division of the old schismatic sect, the Mahasan- 
ghikas, or 'adherents of the great community.' 
its chief content is a miraculous biography of 
Buddha, written in mixed Sanskrit. It is of great 
Importance as containing many old versions of 
texts that also occur in the Pali canon, such as the 
' .Sermon of Benares ' and a section of the Dhamma- 
pada. About half of it consists of jdtakas, many 
of which do not occur in Pali. Though belonging 
to the Hinayana, it contains mucli that is akin to 
the Mahayana, as that the adoration of Buddha is 
.alone suHicient for the attainment of nirvdna. 
There is, however, only a slight admixture of 
regular Mahayana doctrine, and nothing of Maha- 
yana mythology. Some of the elements wliich it 
contains point to the 4th cent. A.D., but the 
nucleus of the book probably dates from the 2nd 
cent. B.C. (see MahaVASTU). 

The Lalita-vi.stara, or ' Detailed account of the 
play (of Buddha),' though it seems to have origin- 



83 



LITERATURE (Buddhist) 



ally been a BiuUllia liiofrrapliy of the Sarvasti- 
vanins, lias been extcndeil in the sense of the 
Mahayana, of wliich it bears all the characteristics. 
It is a continuous narrative in Sanskrit prose, with 
long metrical pieces in ' mixed Sanskrit.' Con- 
taininf; old ana new elements .side by side, it is 
valuable for the development of the Buddha legend 
from its earliest beginnings to the deification of 
]5uddlia as a god above all gods. 

The Buddha-charita, or ' Life of Buddha,' is an 
epic composed in pure Sanskrit. It is the work of 
Asvaghosa (q.v.), a genuine poet, who, as one of 
the pioneers of the Mahayana and a contemporary 
of Kaniska, must have composed it about A.D. 100. 
Originally a Brahman, he joined the Sarvastivadin 
sect, but laid great stress on devotion to Buddha. 
His epic, however, contains no pronounced Maha- 
yana doctrine. 

Another work of the same school, dating prob- 
ably from the 4th cent. A.D., is the JCitaka-mdla, 
or 'Garland of birth stories,' by Aryasura. It is 
coniposedin a mixture of verse and prose, conform- 
ing to the style of classical Sanskrit literature. It 
contains 34 jdtakas, illustrating the prlramitns, or 
'perfections,' of a Bodhisattva, and nearly all 
occurring in the Pali Jfttaka Book. 

Cognate with the preceding works are a number 
of collections of avaddnas, or ' stories of great 
deeds,' being practically /atetes in which the hero 
is a Bodhisattva (not Buddha). The older ones 
still belong to the Hinayana, though attaching 
special importance to the veneration of Buddha. 
Such is the Avaddna-iataka, or ' Century of great 
deeds,' which, dating probably from the 2nd cent. 
A.D., contains pieces from the Sanskrit canon of 
the Sarvastivadins, and nothing connected with 
the cult of Bodhisattvas or with Mahayana myth- 
ology. Dating from about a century later, but 
including very old texts, is the Divydvadana, or 
' Heavenly avaddnas,' which often mentions the 
Sanskrit canon and quotes individual canonical 
texts, besides having several legends in common 
with the Pali canon. Most of the stories are 
written in good simple Sanskrit with occasional 
gdthds, but others show the elaborate metres and 
long compounds of the artificial classical style. 

2. Mahayana. — The Mahayana, not representing 
a homogeneous sect, possesses no canon. But there 
are nine dharmas, or ' religious texts,' which, 
composed at different times and belonging to 
different sects, are also called Vaipuhja stltras. 
The most important and most characteristic work 
of the Mahayana school is the Saddharma-pun- 
danka, or 'Lotus of good religion.' It contains 
matter of different date represented by Sanskrit 
prose and by gdt/ids in 'mixed Sanskrit.' Its 
original form dates perhaps from about A.D. 200. 
Sakyamuni is here no longer a man, the mendicant 
of t)ie Pali suttas, but a god above all gods, who 
has lived for countless ages and will live for ever. 
His doctrine is that every one can become a Buddha 
who has heard the preaching of Buddha, per- 
formed meritorious works, and led a moral life. 
Even those who adore relics, erect sfupas, or 
make Buddha images obtain the highest enlighten- 
ment (see Lotus of the True Law). 

A whole sritra, the Karanffn-rynhn, akin in 
language and style to the later Hindu purdnas, is 
devoted to the exaltation of Avalokit«svara, the 
'Lord who looks down' with compassion on all 
beings, here the typical Bodhisattva who, in the 
exercise of infinite pity, refuses Buddhahood till 
all beings are saved. The yearning for salva- 
tion has probably never been more powerfully 
expres.sed than in the figure of Avalokitesvara 
(}.«.). The cult of this Bodhisattva is known to 
have been in existence before A.D. 400. More 
mythological is the Siikhdvati-v!/uha{c. A.D. 100), 



or ' Detailed account of the Land of Bliss,' which 
is devoted to the praise of the Buddha Amitabha 
('of unmeasured splendour'). The Ganda-vyuha 
(a still unpublished dharma) celebrates the Bodhi- 
sattva Mafiju^rl (q.v.), who occupies a prominent 
position in Mahayana cult and art. 

Other Mahajana sfitras are of a philosophic and 
dogmatic character. The Lahkdvatdra-siitra (a 
dharma) describes a visit paid to the den\on 
Havana in Ceylon by Buddha, who answers a 
number of questions about religion according to 
the doctrines of the Yogachara school (founded by 
Asaiiga). The tenets of a number of plulosophical 
schools are also discussed here. The Dasabhu- 
mixvnra (a dharma) represents a lecture by Buddha 
in Indra's heaven, about the ten stages by which 
Buddhahood is to be reached. It dates from 
before A.D. 400, when it was translated into 
Chinese. The Sanudhi-rdja (a dharnm), or 'King 
of meditations," is a dialogue in which Buddha 
shows how a Bodhisattva can attain the highest 
enlightenment by various stages of contemplation. 
The Suvania-prabiidsa (a dharma), dating from 
not later than the 6th cent. A.D., is partly philo- 
sophical, partly legendary, and partly ritualistic 
in its contents. The Hindu goddesses Sarasvati 
and MahadevI are introduced, and magical formula 
and Tantra practices are dealt with. The Rdstra- 
pdla-sutra (before A.D. 600), besides containing 
Buddha's description of the qualities of a Bodhi- 
sattva, introduces a number of jdtakas. Its main 
interest lies in its prophecy of the future decay of 
religion ; for its realistic descriptions must largely 
reflect the lax morality of the Buddhist monks of 
the 6th century. The most important of all the 
Sutras of the Mahayana are the PrajMpdramitds, 
or sittras on the 'perfection of wisdom.' They 
de.al with the six perfections of a Bodhisattva, but 
especially with the highest, prajnd, ' wisdom,' the 
knowledge of the doctrine of nothingness, which 
denies not only being, but also not-being. The 
doctrine of the Mahayana sutras was systematized 
by Nagarjuna, originally a Brahman who flourished 
about A.D. 200 and founded the Madhyamika school, 
one of the main branches of the Mahayana. In 
order to remove the otherwise insoluble contradic- 
tions of complete nihilism, he lays down in his 
Madhyamika sutras that the doctrine of Buddha 
rests on two kinds of truth. The one is the con- 
ventional truth of everyday life (in which the 
higher truth is latent), and the other is truth in 
the highest sense. It is only through the lower 
that the higher truth can be taught, and it is only 
through the latter that nirvdtfa can be attained. 
This distinction resembles that between the higher 
and the lower know ledge in the Vedanta system of 
theBrahmans(seeMADHYAMAKA,MADHYAMlKAS). 

Nagarjuna cannot be regarded a.'i the originator 
of the Mahayana doctrine itself. There must have 
been teachers and texts of that doctrine more than 
a century before his time ; for Mahayana texts 
were translated into Chinese in the 3rd cent. A.D., 
and the Gandhara type of Buddhist art, which 
represents the Mahayana doctrine, came into being 
about the beginning of our era. 

Asahga [q.v.), the eldest of the three sons of a 
Brahman from I'eshawar, probably Uonrished in 
the first half of the 4th century. Originally an 
adherent of the Sarvastivada school, he became 
the main exponent of the Mahayunist Yogachara 
school, which recognizes existence in consciousness 
(vijudna) only, denyin" the reality of the pheno- 
menal world. The only absolute entity is truth 
(bodhi), which is manifested in the Buudhas, and 
which is attainable solely by those who practise 
yo(ja in ten stages. Yoga (q.v.) was thus brought 
into systematic connexion with the Mahayana 
doctrine. Asaiiga expounds the tenets of this 



LITERATURE (Chinese) 



89 



school in his MahCiyana-Sutrdlamkaro, a work 
consisting of memorial verses (karikds) in various 
metres and a commentary written by himself. 
Asahga's brother, Vasubandhu, one of the most 
important figures in Buddhist literature, distin- 
guished for profound learning and great powers of 
independent philosophic thought, is remarkable as 
having written authoritative works representing 
both the great divisions of Buddhism. His most 
important work, belonging to his earlier and 
Hinayana pei'iod, was his Abhidharina-ko^a, which 
deals with ethics, psychology, and metaphysics, 
but is known only through a Sanskrit commentary 
and Chinese and Tibetan translations. In later 
life he was converted by his brother Asahga to the 
Mahayana doctrine, when he composed a number 
of commentaries on various Mahayana sfitras, 
which have, however, been preserved in Chinese 
and Tibetan translations only. The most im- 
portant of the later Rlahaj'anists was Santideva, 
who probably lived in tlie 7th, cent, and was the 
author of two works. The first, Siksd-samuchchaya, 
or 'Summary of the Doctrine,' is a manual of the 
Mahayana teaching, consisting of memorial verses 
(kari/cds) and a commentary. The other is the 
Bodhieharyavatdra, or 'Entry into the practice of 
enlightenment,' a religious )ioem of great literary 
merit, inculcating the pursuit of the highest moral 
perfection. The aim in both works is the attain- 
ment of enlightenment as a Bodhisattva by means 
of infinite compassion and the veneration of Buddhas, 
the highest wisdom being the belief in nothingness 
(iunyatd). 

An indication of the decay of Buddhism in India 
is the approximation of its later literature to that 
of Hinduism. Thus the Mahayana sfitras show 
striking resemblances to the Brahmanic purdnas, 
containing, like the.se, miihdtmyas, or glorifications 
of particular localities, and stotras, or hymns ad- 
dressed to various deities. There are also separate 
stotras, like those 'addressed to Visnu and Siva; 
many of them glorify the goddess Tara, the female 
counterpart of the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara. 

A further sign of degeneracy is the increasingly 
important position which the dhdranls, or 'spells,' 
begin to occupy in Mahayanist literature. They 
appear to have existed from the 3rd cent. A.D. 
They were probably in their earliest form intel- 
ligible sfitras containing Buddhist doctrine, but 
unintelligible mystic syllables gradually began to 
prevail as the ' kernel ' of magic powers. Finally, 
under the influence of the Saivite tantras they 
became pure gibberish and entered as essential 
elements into the Buddhist tantras. 

The Tantras {q.v.), which probably date from 
the 9th to the 11th cent., and are composed in 
barbarous Sanskrit, represent the final stage in 
the degradation of Indian Buddhism. They are 
treatises partly concerned with ritual (kriyCi- 
tantra) or rules of conduct (charya-tantra), partly 
with the esoteric doctrine of the Yogis (yoga- 
tantra). The former class is a revival of the old 
Brahman ritual of the Grhyasfttras, and the 
mystical syllables contained in them are addressed 
not only to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, but also 
to Saivite deities. Most of the tantras, however, 
are connected with yoga, starting from the mys- 
ticism of the Madhyamika and the Yogachara 
schools. The yogi here aims at the liighest 
knowledge of nothingness (iiinyata), not only by 
asceticism and meditation, but by magical rites, 
hypnotism, and other expedients. The teaching 
and practice of this yoga are a mixture of mys- 
ticism, sorcery, and erotics, accompanied by dis- 
gusting orgies. Nothing of Buddliism remains 
in them, for they differ in no respect, except in 
beinc described as ' promulgated by Buddha,' from 
the Saivite tantras, inculcating as they do the 



worship of the lihga and Saivite gods, and intro- 
ducing numerous female deities into their cult. 

LiTERATPRB. — H. Kern. Manualof Indian Biidilhism, .Strass- 
Imrg, 1S90, pp. 1-8 ; L. de la Vallee Poussin, H 'Uddhisme : 
Etudes et matiriaux. Brussels. 1897; T. W. Rhys Davids, 
Buddhism, London, 1904, Lect. ii., Buddhist India, do. 1903, 
chs. ix.-xi.; M. Winternitz, Gesch. der ind. Litttratur, vol. ii. 
pt. i. 'Die buddh. Litteratur,' Leipzig, 1913 (conUins verj' full 
bibliographical notes on editions, translations, books, and 
articles on qHestions of detail — e.g., on the history and authen- 
ticity of the Pali canon, p. 1). A. A. MACDONKLL. 

LITERATURE (Chinese).— The vast mass of 
Chine;-e literature is divided by Chinese scholars 
into four classes — classics, histories, writings of 
phUosophers, and belles lettres. The terra king, 
translated ' classic,' means originally the warp of 
a web, and by metaphorical extension comes to 
mean what is invariable, a rule. The Chinese 
classics are, therefore, those books which are re- 
garded by the Chinese as canonical. Taoism and 
Buddhism as well as Confucianism have their 
classics ; but in speaking of the Chinese classics 
one has in view the books of the Confucian canon 
only. If we speak of them as ' sacred,' we expose 
ourselves to misleading associations. We do, in- 
deed, meet with the phrase Shcng King as designat- 
ing the Confucian canon, where Sheng is the word 
which is used in Christian literature to express the 
idea of holiness. Originally, however, it refers to 
perfection of wisdom ('sage,' 'sagely'), and does 
not of itself suggest any relation to the divine. 
Of the perfect Sage it is said : 

' He is seen, and the people all reverence him ; he speaks, and 
the people all believe him ; he acts, and the people all are 
pleased with him ' (,Doct. of the Mean, .-cxxi. 3). 

Tlie authority of the classics is due not to any 
special inspiration, but to their connexion with 
sages or sagely men who possessed this ideal 
development of human nature. Degrees of autho- 
rity are recognized; Mencius, e.g., in some of his 
[ironouncements is held to have fallen short of the 
[lerfect balance of Confucius. In so far as educa- 
tion was founded on and almost confined to the 
classics, their influence has, been enormous. Less 
legitimately their connexion with the sages has 
given them a pre-eminent share in that reverence, 
passing into superstition, with which all written 
and printed paper is regarded by the Chinese. 
Among the commentators on the classics, Chu Hsi 
(A.D. 1130-1200) has long been considered to be the 
standard of orthodoxy. The number of books 
embraced in the Confucian canon has varied. The 
Imperial edition of the T'ang dynasty included 
thirteen books. The present canon, taken in the 
strictest sense, includes the Five Classics and the 
Four Books. 

I. The 'Five Classics.'— {!) J King, 'The Book 
of Changes.' — The germ of this is the Eight Tri- 
giams, further elaborated into sixty-four, alleged 
to have been copied by Fu Hsi, a legendary ruler 
of early China, from the back of a mysterious 
creature which appeared from the waters of the 
Yellow River. The diagrams are combinations of 
whole and broken lines, and are supposed to cor- 
respond to the powers of nature — heaven, earth, 
lire, water, etc. Wen Wang added to the diagrams 
bis ' Definitions ' ; Chou Kung supplemented these 
with his ' Observations ' ; and, finally, Confucius 
added ' Ten Chapters of Commentary,' and the 
classic was complete. As being the joint work of 
these four sages, it enjoys a great reimtation. It is 
a compound of obscure and fanciful speculation and 
of a system of divination. But with regard to its 
meaning and its origin, whether it is native to 
China or may be connected with Babylonia or 
elsewliere, various opinions have been held by 
scholars. 

(2) Shu King, ' The Book of Historical Docu- 
ments.' — We read of a canon of one hundred 



90 



LITERATURE (Chinese) 



historical documents, ascribed on inadequate evi- 
dence to Confucius, with a preface the Confucian 
autliorshipof which is even more doubtfuL What 
now exists is this preface ami lifty-ei^;ht books of 
documents, the tradition of which is traied back to 
two scholars, Fu Sheng and An Kuo. The twenty- 
five books which rest on the sole authority of the 
latter arc gravely suspect. The whole collection 
of document*, whicli by no means forms a continu- 
o\is history, falls into live divisions — the books of 
T'ang, of yu, of Hsia, of Shang, and of Chou. 
The earliest documents refer to a period about 
•200U u.c, tlie latest to G'27 or 624 B.C. Whatever 
be the admixture of legcmlary matter, the docu- 
ments are of much historical interest. As a record 
of early moral and religious ideas their value is 
also great. The political ideal is a benevolent 
autocracy, and sovereignty is conferred or with- 
drawn according to the righteous judgment of God, 
who raises up the instruments of His providence. 

(3) Slii Ki>i(/, 'The Book of Odes.— This com- 
prises three hundred and five odes, with the titles 
only of six more, traditionally said to have been 
selected by Confucius from the numerous pieces 
extant in his time. Tliis account greatly exag- 
gerates his share in the nuiking of the classic. 
Confucius attached great educational value to the 
odes. He claims that their design is summed up 
in this : ' Have no depraved thoughts ' ; but, while 
they are free from inilecencies, a number of them 
spring from irregular passion. The subject-matter 
of the odes is various — praise of virtuous kings and 
ministers, and of chaste and submissive wives ; 
longing for absent friends, and the joy of reunion ; 
the giiefs of neglected officers and forsaken wives ; 
complaints of injustice, remonstrances with care- 
less or wicked rulers ; celebration of State banquets 
and sacrihces. The odes are not arranged in chro- 
nological order, but in four classes: (1) 'Lessons 
from the States,' 15 books of odes from various 
feudal States ; (2) ' Minor Odes of the Kingdom,' 
8 books ; (3) ' Greater Odes of the Kingdom,' 3 
books ; and (4) ' Odes of the Temple and the Altar,' 
3 books. The earliest odes date from the Shang 
dynasty (1765-1122 B.C.), and the latest from the 
ti'me of King Ting (605-585 B.C.) of the Chou 
dynasty. Much can be gathered from the odes 
illustrating early Chinese civilization. 

(4) Li Ki, ' Culleriion of Treatises on t/ie Rules 
of Projnirty or C'ereinoiiial Us/inrs.' — Of the 
' Three Itituals,' tlie / Li, tbe Chou Li, and the 
Li Ki, Hie last only has a place among the Five 
Classics. It is a collection condensed from a larger 
group of documents in the 1st cent. li.C, and 
augmented and finally lixed in the 2nd cent. a.d. 
The various treatises, which are not arranged in 
any logical order, cover a gi-eat variety of subjects 
— birth, capping, m.arriage, death, mourning, .sacri- 
fices, education, and intercourse between persons 
of dillerent grades and ages. There is much 
wearisome detail, but it is from this classic that 
we learn the genius of the Chinese race as em- 
bodied in religious and social usages. 

(5) Ch'un Ch'iii, 'Annals.' — Ch'un Ch'iu, lit. 
'Spring and Autumn,' a common name for annals, 
is the only one of tlie Five Classics ascribed to 
Confucius him.self; but it falls so far short of 
Mencius's eulogy of the Ch'v)i Ch'iu which he 
knew that doubt --not supjiortcd by other evidence 
— lia.s been expressed as to whether our Ch'un Ch'iu 
is indeed the image's work. It .seems to be founded 
on, and may be merely transcribed from, the annals 
of l,u, Confucius's native State. It is an absolutely 
buld record of such things as the beginnings of the 
seasons. State-covenants, wars, deaths of persons 
ill high estate, and extraordinary events. The 
notices of eclijises are important as alfording 
chronological data. The record runs from 721 B.C. 



to the 14th year of Duke Ai, when Confucius's 
work ends, and is supplemented by his disciples 
up to the time of his death, 16th year of Duke Ai 
(478 B.C.). Even Chinese scholars admit that the 
record is not impartial, and is guilty of concealing 
the truth. An unfortunate cloud thus rests on the 
character of its author. The best known comment- 
ary on the Ch'vn Ch'iu is the Tso Chnnn, which sup- 
plements it in a lively style and carries the record to 
467 B.C., with one entry of a slightly later date. 

2. The 'Four Books.' — (1) Lnn Yu, ' Annlects.' 
^These were probably compiled by Confucian 
scholars of the second generation. Conversations 
with Confucius and disconnected sayings of his, 
mostly quite brief, form the staple of the work ; 
but bk. 19 contains sayings of disciples only, and 
these occur also in other books. The main themes 
are ethics and g(."?nimont. In spite of the general 
failure even to seek after righteousness, it is main- 
tained that human nature is made for virtue, which 
is a life-long task. For the attaining of virtue 
there is suflieieiit strength, if only it is exerted. 
Hence the importance of moral culture, though 
some may be incapable of it. The ideal man 
(Chun Tzd) is depicted, and such topics as filial 
piety, friendship, and perfect virtue are discussed. 
' Reciprocity '—not to do to others what one would 
not have done to oneself — is the highest moral 
rule. There is intention.al reticence on extra- 
mundane matters. In politics the moral ends of 
government are emphasized, as is also the influence 
of a virtuous ruler over his subjects. Bk. 10 con- 
tains many particulars as to Confucius's deport- 
ment and habits. More imjiortant are the scattered 
estimates of Confucius by himself. 

(2) Ta Hsiich, ' The Great Learninrj,' is so called 
with reference either to the importance of its 
matter or to the maturer age of its students. 
The text appears to be fragmentary. In one re- 
cension it forms a section of the Li Ki ; but as 
usually printed it is arranged by Cliu Ilsi, though 
without authority, into text by Confucius and 
comment by Tsgng Tzii. The book professes to 
trace the development of morality from investiga- 
tion of things, through extension of knowledge, 
sincerity of the thoughts, and rectilication of the 
heart, up to cultivation of the person (wliich is the 
central idea) ; and then on to regulation of the 
family and tranquillizing of the empire. The work, 
though not without some excellent moral ideas, 
falls far short of its promise. 

(3) Chunf/ Yung, 'The Doctrine of the Mean' 
(probably rather 'Equilibrium and Harmony'), is 
ascribed to K'ung Chi, grandson of Confucius, 
commonly known as Tzti Sstl. This treatise, like 
the Ta Hsiieh, forms a section of tlie Li Ki. 
Human nature, as given by heaven, is the source 
of morality. In its original state it is 'equilib- 
rium ' ; as developed into right action it is ' har- 
mony.' The beginnings of this development lie at 
hand in ordinary duties and virtues, particularly 
in ' reciprocit}',' which is here developed positively 
( = the Golden Rule; cf. ERE vi. 311''). Such 
development of nature is exhibited in the sages. 
When it is so developed that fact and ideal 
coalesce, we have 'sincerity.' Some have this 
sincerity by innate endowment; .some attain to 
it by uuuarinstructioii. It is tlie sum mum bonunt, 
and has a transforming inlluence on things and 
men. Confucius is eulogized extravagantly, though 
perhaps not precisely identified with the ideal man 
who is the equal of heaven. 

(4) Mencius (371-288 B.C.).— Seven books of his 
teaching remain, which are credibly ascribed to 
Mencius himself in collaboration with his dis- 
cijiles. The main topics are ethics ami politics. 
Human nature is iii.idc for riglilcousnessi. This 
original constitution is the child-heart which good 



LITERATURE (Dravidian) 



91 



men preserve. Mencius maintains tlie disinterested 
nature of the affections, and asserts as according 
to nature the subordination of the passions to 
moral control. Nature in ordinary men and in the 
sages is one and the same, but for its development 
ceaseless effort is required. The ' passion nature ' 
is not to be suppressed but disciplined. If nature 
does not evince its goodness, it is only as a hill 
constantly grazed on appears bare of verdure. 
Untoward circumstances should be regarded as 
divine discipline. Repentance so pui-ges a man 
that he may even worship God. Mencius's views 
on politics are mostly developed in conversation 
with contemporary rulers, with whom he uses, on 
the whole, an admirable frankness. Government 
should be benevolent and righteous. Such a 
government inevitably prospers. Its main con- 
cerns are agriculture and education. Above all, 
the people, who are of the first importance in a 
State, must have a stable livelihood. If a monarch 
be utterly unworthy, it is not rebellion to depose 
him ; but this must be done in accordance with the 
decree of heaven revealing itself in the popular 
mind. Mencius acutely criticizes the heretical 
views of his time. In IV. ii. 26 he recommends 
observation of phenomena as the source of know- 
ledge. His style is lively, the illustrations abun- 
dant and mostly apt, and the dialectic keen. He 
has popularized and given a tone of his own to the 
doctrines of Confucius, to which his work is the 
most interesting approach. 

Literature.— For the English student the most accessible 
works are J. Legge's ed. of the Chinese Classics, Hongkong, 
1861-72, and the volumes of his translations in SEE iii." [1399J, 
xvi. [1882], xxvii. [1885], xxviii. [1885]. In W. A. P. Martin, 
Banliu J'aptrs, 2nd ser., Shanghai. IS'Jl, there is a chapter on 
'Chinese Ideas on the Inspiration of their Sacred Books.' For 
a more general view of Chinese literature one may refer to 
A.Wylie, iVof'',s on Chinese Literature, London, 1S07 ; H. A. 
Giles, A Ui^toi-tf of Chinese Literature, do. 1901 ; W. Grube, 
Gesch. des chines. Litteratur-, Leipzig, 1900. 

' P. J. Maclagan. 

LITERATURE (Dravidian).— Dravidian litera- 
ture is the record of the best of the tliought of 
those peoples of S. India who speak languages 
designated byKumarila Bhatta, in the 7tli cent. 
of our era, as Andhra Dravida. The four principal 
literary Dravidian languages are now Telugu, 
Tamil, Kanarese, and Malayalam. According to 
the Census Ileport of 1911, Telugu is spoken by 
2^ millions of people, Tamil by a little over 19 
millions, Kanare.se by lOJ millions, and Malay- 
alam by 6J millions. That the Sanskrit-speaking 
Aryans were acquainted with S. India at an early 
period is evident from the mention of the Andhras 
by the grammarian Panini (prob.'ibly c. 350 B.C.), 
but Aryan immigration into the South came 
at so late a period that the southern Dravidian 
languages retained, with but few exceptions, their 
own characteristic grammatical structure. Their 
vocabulary was, however, enlarged by the inclu- 
sion of Sanskrit technical terms and words or their 
corruptions. So widely did this Aryan influence 
on the literature of the South spread in course of 
time that J. Vinson says : 

' Not one Telugu, Kanarese, or Tamil book how in existence 
is independent of Sanskrit. . . . Writing was not applied to 
vernacular languages before the 4th century. It was the Aryan 
Braiimans or Jains or Buddhists who first having learned the 
vernaculars used them for literary purposes and then taught 
the natives to write and compose works. The preliminary or 
Jain period must have lasted two or three centuries ' {Siddhanta 
Dipika, August 1908). 

The southern inscriptions of Asoka show that 
writing must have been familiar to tlie people by 
the 3rd cent. B.C. The present .southern scripts 
are, however, all derived from the Andlira alpha- 
bets of about the 4th cent, of our era. Telugu 
and Kanarese alphabets date from the 5th cent., 
while the oldest Tamil cursive writing comes 
from the 7th century. Previous to any writing 
or written records the folk-songs of the people. 



their moral aphorisms as well as their lyric out- 
bursts of love and war, set as they were to music, 
were handed down by memory from generation to 
generation. P. Sundaram Pillai states that more 
than 19,000 lines of the hymns of the early poet 
Sambandhar, not later in date than the 7th cent., 
are still e.xtant : 

' Most of them appear to have been uttered impromptu, and 
all of them being lyrical are set to music. The original tunes 
are now mostly forgotten. They were lost in the later airs 
introduced by Aryan musicians of the north' (Some Milestones 
in the History of Tamil Literature, p. fi). 
The intruding Aryan influence so blended with the 
indigenous Dravidian element that the Aryan lute 
{ohm) completely ousted the primitive Dravidian 
musical instrument {yid), no reliable description 
of which remains on record. Similarly, the old 
grammars and the grammars of the Paninian and 
Andhra school of grammarians have been super- 
seded by the now standard authority for all classic 
compositions, the Nan Nill, composed by a southern 
Jain grammarian, Pavanandi, about the beginning 
of the 13th century. The Nan NCil lays down the 
rule that ' to reject the old and obsolete usage and 
to adopt new and modern usage is not an error 
but a yielding to the nece.ssities of time and cir- 
cumstance ' (G. U. Pope, Third Tamil Grammar, 
Madras, 1S59, Rule 462, 'Nan Nul'). Notwith- 
standing this salutary rule, Dravidian prose and 
poetry are considered worthy of commendation by 
the learned only when they are as dift'erent from 
the spoken vernaculars as Anglo-Saxon is from 
modern English. The more they hold themselves 
aloof from the colloquial langTiagc of the time and 
people, and the more they are swathed in archa- 
isms, the more they merit the praise of pandits. 
The earliest, and therefore the purest, Dravidian 
literature, as freest from Aryan influences, lies 
enshrined in works dating from about the 2nd 
cent, of our era. Collections known as the Ten 
Classical Poems are assigned to a very early date ; 
these were succeeded by Eight Compilations of 
various authors. Eighteen shorter stanzas, includ- 
ing the moral aphorisms of the Rural of Tiruval- 
luvar, followed, and the four hundred quatrains of 
the Ndladii/ar, said to have been composed by a 
.Jain poet of about the 8th century. The latter 
quatrains show strong Aryan influences, dealing 
as they do with the ordinary topics of Indian 
metaphysics — the pain of existence, transmigi'a- 
tion of the soul, and release therefi-om. Some of 
the quatrains are mere translations from such 
Sanskrit epics as the Mahabharata. Pope, who 
translated and annotated the NaladiyCtr in a 
scholarly edition, described it as 'The Bible of the 
Cultivators of the Soil.' Its style, however, is so 
classical that no cultivator of the soil could under- 
stand the meaning of the verses unless explained 
to him in the language that he is accustomed to 
speak. The moral epigrams of the Kural and 
Nciladiyar, in coujJets and quatrains, have been 
acclaimed as the highest achievements of Dravidian 
literature. Pope {Kural, p. xiv) truly says of the 
Kural (and the same applies to the Naladiyar) 
that a line 'is often little else than a string of 
crude forms artfiUly fitted together.' Style such 
as] this, framed on Sanskrit corrupt compounds, 
can hardly claim the title of literature, however 
epigrammatic or moral the underlying and hidden 
thought may be. The Naladiyar is, nevertheless, 
well suited to fill its present role as a literary 
puzzle for Tamil students at the Madras University, 
or for Honours candidates at other Universities. 

To the same period, from the 2nd cent, to the 
10th cent., are ascribed the chief versified Tamil 
romances— the Mani Mekhalai, the Silapp'adhi- 
Icaram, and the most perfectly constructed and 
the most untranslatable, on account of its open 
erotic sentiment, of all Tamil romances, the 



92 



LITERATURE (Egyptian) 



Jivakachintamaiii. These poems, amid a sur- 
louniiiiig of love ami romance, jjive a vivid view 
of early Jaiu and Huddliist life in S. India and 
reliable accounts of the doctrines of the Jain and 
Huddhist faitlis. They still await translation 
into English to make them available for historical 
purposes. No translation could possibly convey 
the peculiar charm of the stately and leisured 
style of the original, its melodious and harmonic 
sequences of sound, and the subtlety of its quaint 
and involved conceits of metaphor. J. Vinson 
(Manuel dc la /nnr/uc tamoule, p. xlv) has given a 
valuable and balanced judgment respecting the com- 
parative value of the best of Dravinian literature. 

' Malyrii tout, cependant, la littorature tauioule est secondaire. 
A part j>eut-etrc Ics recueils de sentences morales, il n'est pas 
un po^ine de quelque importance dent uue traduction com- 
plete puissc 6tre lue sans fatij^ue par des Europeens. Sea 
descriptions y eont diffuses, monotones, pleine.s de mauvais 
goiit et d'txag:gerations choquantes, conformes d'ailleurs h un 
t.vpe unifomie donn6. Ses po^mes d'amour ne gont pas plus 
varies, et les po&mes de gueiTe se ressemblent tons ; ce sont 
proprement des jeux d'esprit, des amplifications de rh^torique 
Bur una formule generate et sur un canevas minutieusemcnt 
r6gl<^. L'invention et rimagiualion ne peuvent s'\' exercer que 
Bur les details, sur les expressions, sur la mesure, sur la forme 
ext^rieure en un mot.' 

This Aryan influence on the religious literature 
(see Dravidians [South India]) and even on the 
indigenous folksongs of the people has had the 
result that without a previous knowledge of San- 
skrit much is almost unintelligible. According to 
C. E. Gover {Folk-Songs of Southern India, p. 14), 
who gathered together folk-songs from the varied 
peoples of S. India, 

*tbe foreign element progressed till almost the whole ^sTitten 
literature of the country became Brahmanic. Indigenous 
poetry fell into undeserved contempt or, where that was not 
possible, was edited so unscrupulously that the original was 
tiidden under a load of corruption.' 

This Arv'au influence so permeated the whole spirit 
and vitality of indigenous literature that Appakavi, 
a grammarian of the 17th cent., contemptuously 
declared that Telugu adaptations from the Sanskrit 
were merely for the use of women and Siidras. 
The distinguished Dravidian scholar, G. V. Rama- 
murti, who quotes the above in his Memorandum 
on Modem Telugu (Madras, 1913, p. 3), further 
states that, should a Brahman read the Edmayana 
for religions merit, he reads the Sanskrit original 
and not a Telugu adaptation. The same writer, 
who is an ardent advocate for a reformed pure 
Dravidian literature freed from Sanskrit corrup- 
tions, states only the truth when he says : 

'A Sanskrit original, whether it is the Ramayaija or Maha- 
bharata, is much simpler in style and language than a translation 
of it ' {op. cH. p. 6). 

Nevertheless, the simple peasant values these 
Telugu, Tamil, Kanarese, or Malayalara imita- 
tions of, or adaptations from, the Sanskrit poems, 
epics, and puranas. Read as they are by pro- 
fessional reciters under the village tree during the 
long star-lit evenings, they hold the simple folk in 
spellixjund wonder and awe as they listen to a 
running translation and commentary in the current 
vernacular. They teach the village folk the simple 
story of life, of the rewards and joys of those who 
had faith in the gods and thereby gained salvation 
through the grace of the deity, of the triumph of 
good over evil, and, above all, the loved stories of 
wifely devotion and jiatient suffering under un- 
merited calamities. 

LrTKEATURE.— R. Caldwell, A Comparative Grammar of the 
J>rapiiMan Larnjwtgei-, ],ondon, 1S76 ; C. E. Gover, Tht' 
Folk-Song* of Southern India, do. 1872 ; V. Kanakasabhai, 
Tiic Tamils Eiahtfen Hundred Years a/jo. Madnis, 1W>4 ; G. U. 
Pope, trr. of Rural, London, IMO, .Vu/a<Ji>iir, Oxford, 1893, 
Tiru Vuchakam, do. 1900 ; M. beshagiii Sastri, Bssaj/ in 
Tamil Literature, Madras, 1897 : P. Suadaram Pillai, iSom^ 
Mikgtonrt in the Distory of Tamil Literature, do. 1895; S. C 
Chitty, The Tamil Plutarch, Jaffna, 1859. 

R. W. Fkazer. 
LITERATURE (Egyptian).— The great bulk 
of e.\tant Egyptian sacred literature may be 



grouped in three divisions: (I) the Pyramid Texts ; 
(•2) the Book of the Dead, with its related group 
of books, the Book of Am Dual (or of know- 
ing that which is in the under world), the Book 
of Breathings, the Book of Gates, etc. ; and (3) 
miscellaneous writings, embracing a number of 
hymns to various gods, Ra, Osiris, Hapi, Amen, 
such writings as the Lamentations, and the Festival 
Songs of Isis and Acphthj/s and the Litanies of 
Seker, and a number of legends concerning the 
gods and their relations to mankind. 

I. The Pyramid Texts. — Tliese constitute by 
far the most important body of Egyptian sacred 
writings known to us, not only because they ex- 
hibit tlie religious beliefs of the nation at a very 
early period in its history, but also because the 
remains of primitive traditions embedded in them 
enable some of ihe Egyptian beliefs to be traced 
back even to pre-historic times, and because the 
development manifest in the later versions of them 
shows how gradual but important changes were 
happening in J'jgj-ptian religious belief within a 
dehnite period. 

The great pyramids of the IVth dyn. kings have 
no interior inscriptions, and it was supposed that 
this was true of all other pyramids also, until in 
1880 Mariette's workmen at Saqnarah managed to 
efl'ect an entrance to the pyramid of I'cpy I. of the 
Vlth dyn., and later on to that of Merenra of the 
same line, and found that both contained lengthy 
hieroglyphic inscriptions, hewn in the stone and 
coloured green. Eventually inscriptions were found 
in Il\e pyramids, of which the oldest is that of 
Unas of the Vth dyn., and the others are those of 
Teta, Pepy I., Merenra, and Pepy ll., all of the 
Vlth dyna.sty. The inscriptions thus cover a period 
of about 150 years, from 2625 to 2475 B.C., or, on 
Petrie's Sinai dating, from about 4210 B.C. on- 
wards. Immediately after their discovery the 
texts were edited by Maspero, and the attention 
devoted to them has been steadily increasing. The 
best edition at present available is that of Sethe 
H)ie altagyptisehcn Pyramidentexte, Leipzig, 
19M8-10). 

These texts are, then, the oldest body of religious 
literature extant in the world, and a great deal of 
the material embodied in them carries us back to 
very much earlier times than their own sufficiently 
early date, referring to primitive customs and con- 
ditions of life which had long been extinct by the 
time of the Vth and Vlth dynasties. The later 
versions show traces of editing, which has been 
undertaken in order to meet the new developments 
of religious thought arising in a period of 150 years. 
I'.roadly speaking, the object of these writings is to 
secure blessedness in the after life to the king on 
the walls of whose tomb they are inscribed ; for 
there is as yet no trace of any idea that the im- 
mortality postulated for the Pharaoh may be also 
the property of the common people. The whole 
contents of the texts aie directed towards the one 
purpose of securing entrance to the abodes of bliss 
for the deiid king, and unihcation with the gods 
when his entrance is secured. These content* fall 
under the following divisions: (I) funeraiy ritual 
and ritual of mortuary offerings, (2) magical charms, 
(3) ancient ritual of worship, (4) ancient hymns, 
(5) fragments of ancient mytlis, and (6) prayers on 
behalf of the dead king. 

The material is arranged in sections, each of 
which is headed by the words ' Utter (or lecite) 
the words.' Of these sections the pyramid of Unas 
contains 228, and the other pyramids make up the 
number to 714. The amount of material is thus 
considerable, as may be judged from the fact that 
in Sethe's edition it fills two quarto volumes with 
over 1000 pages of text. It is arranged in the 
most haphazard manner possible, the scribes re- 



LITERATURE (Egyptian) 



93 



sponsible for the diftereiit versions having made 
(as usual in Kgyptian religions writings) not the 
slightest attempt to group together the various 
types of matter enumerated above. The liyiiins 
scattered through tlie collection already exliibit a 
familiar poetical arrangement, in the form of coup- 
lets sliowing parallelism in the ordering of words 
and thoughts ; and the texts are not devoid of a 
certain wild and rude power of imagination which 
entitles tliem to rank as literature. Thus, when 
the dead king rises to the vault of the heavens, 
' Clouds diirken the sky, 

The Stars rain down, 

The Bows [a constellation] stagger, 

The bones of the hell-hounds tremble, 

The gatekeepers are silent 

When they see king Unas 

Dawning as a soul. 

And there is some power of fancy in the passage 
which pictures the king, after he has passed the 
lily-lake and drawn near to the gates of heaven, 
being challenged by voice after voice, out of the 
world of the dead, ' Whence comest tliou, .son of 
my father?' until, at last, when answer has been 
duly made to all the challengers, they fall silent, 
and the dead Pharaoh enters unopposed upon his 
heavenly kingdom. 

The life of blessedness which the Pyramid Texts 
contemplate has already ceased to be that which 
we may take to be the earliest form of the Egyptian 
conception of the life after death — that of sojourn 
at and about the tomb. The deceased king's realm 
is in the skj', and, moreover, in the east of the sky 
— this in absolute contradiction to later belief, 
which always placed the abode of the blessed dead 
in the west. In the sky the king may develop 
either of two destinies : he may become a star, 
or he may be associated with Ra, the sun-god, 
finally becoming identified with him. These two 
destinies no doubt represent two ditterent strata 
of earlier belief, which have been slumped to- 
gether according to the regular Egyptian custom 
of associating incompatibles without attempting to 
reconcile them. 

The earliest form of belief represented in the 
texts is solar ; the deceased is constantly identified 
with Ka, and the Osirian belief is referred to in 
terms which show that it was held to be incom- 
patible with, or even hostile to, the solar form. 
Certain prayers are designed to protect the pyramid 
and its temple against the intrusion of Osiris ; and 
other passages show that ' to the devotee of the 
Solar faith, Osiris once represented the realm and 
the dominion of death, to which the follower of 
Re was not delivered up ' (Breasted, De.vdop7Hent 
of Religion and Thought, in Ancient Egypt, p. 140). 
Gradually, however, and, as the texts show, even 
within the Pyramid Age, the Osirian faith began 
to assert its power and to appropriate part of the 
place which the solar religion had formerly occu- 
pied. In doing so the Osirian conception of the 
life after death, originally one of an under world, 
becomes more or less solarized, and the two faiths 
interpenetrate to some extent ; but, on the whole, 
the Pyramid Texts present us with the picture of 
the gradual assertion of superiority on the part of 
the Osirian faith over the earlier solar creed. It 
would appear that in this transformation we wit- 
ness the triumph of popular over State religion, as 
it is evident that, to start with, the solar faith was 
the State theology, while the cult of Osiris was 
always a popular form of religion. 

On the whole, there is no more interesting body 
of religious literature in the world than this, the 
most ancient of all, and its interest is due, not to 
its own intrinsic value alone, but also to the fact 
that it takes us nearer tlian any other religious 
writing to the primitive ideas of mankind as to the 
modes of life in the world after death. Passages 



such as those which describe how the dead king in 
the other world lassoes and disembowels llie gods, 
cooking them in his kettle, and eating them, 

' Their great ones for his morning meal, 
Their middle-sized ones for his evening meal, 
Their little ones for his night meal,' 

so that 'their magic is in his belly,' have their 
own value as literature for the wild power and 
vigour of imagination which they reveal ; but they 
are still more valuable as survivals of a period when 
the Egyptian, whom we have never seen save in 
the decent, ordered civilization of the dynastic 
period, was actually an unregenerate savage, with 
beliefs on the same intellectual level as those of 
other uncivilized races. 

2. The Book of the Dead.— Next in importance 
to the Pyramid Texts comes the collection of sacred 
writings which has for long been regarded as re- 
presentative of Egyptian religious literature, and 
is most widely known by the totally erroneous 
title of The Book of the Dead. The only justifica- 
tion for the use of this title is that the texts more 
or less regularly used in the collection were, like 
the Pyramid Texts, entirely designed for the 
advantage of deceased persons in the other world. 
The Egyptians themselves called the collection 
' The Chapters of Pert em tiru,' or ' The Coming 
Forth by Day' (or 'Ascending by Day'), a title 
whose significance is somewhat obscure, though 
the contents of the chapters suggest that it may 
have something to do with the powers which the 
knowled''e of them conferred upon the deceased to 
go in anil out from his tomb, and to live an un- 
fettered life in the other world. Concerning the 
early history of the Book of the Dead we have no 
certain information. In fact, there is practically 
no literature extant from the period between the 
Vlth and the Xlth dyn. to show the development 
of religious thought. In the middle kingdom, 
however, under the Xlth and Xllth dynasties, 
there begins to appear a series of texts which are 
regarded by some as an early recension of the Book 
of the Dead. These texts are written no longer on 
the walls of tombs, but on the inner surface of the 
cedar eoliins in which the well-to-do people of 
the period are buried. They are generally written 
in black ink, and are ornamented with coloured 
borders representing the usual funerary offerings 
to the deceased. About one-half of the material 
thus preserved is taken from the Pyramid Texts, 
the other half consisting of material which is met 
with later in the genuine Book of the Dead ; so 
that, really, the inscriptions of this period occupy 
a middle position between the old texts, whose 
object was the service of the king alone, and the 
later book, which was a popular compilation in- 
tended for the use of all and sundry. It might 
be useful, therefore, to distinguish these Middle 
Kingdom texts by some such title as that of ' Coffin 
Texts,' which Breasted employs to denote them. 
The writing of these texts is marked by the same 
carelessness and inaccuracy which characterize 
the later versions of the Book of the Dead. The 
scribe's sole object was to cover the prescribed 
surfaces as rapidly as possible ; it was never ex- 
pected that his work would be seen again, and 
consequently he took the least possible trouble 
with it. In one instance the same chapter is re- 
peated five times over in a single coffin. Apparently 
the thought that by his carelessness he might be 
prejudicing the safety of his j)atron in the other 
world did not worry the Egyptian scribe. 

The Colfin Texts are intermediate in character, 
as in time, between the Pyramid Texts and the 
Book of the Dead. The old solar ideas of the 
Pyramid Texts are still present ; but the Osirian- 
izrng process, already begun, has been carried a 
stage further, and now we have indications of the 



94 



LITERATURE (Egyptian) 



intrusion of the essentially Osiiian idea of an 
under world into the okl solar idea of a celestial 
heaven. Breasted e^iigraraniaticallv sums up the 
dip of the halanee m the Coffin I'exts towards 
the Osirian side hy the remark that in the Pyramid 
Texts Osiris was lifted skyward, while in the 
Coffin Texts Ra is dragged earthward (p. 277). 
Theideaof a Western Elysium, in contradistinction 
to the solar idea of an Eastern one, begins to 
appear, and the character of the Elysium begins 
to approximate to that of the Sekhet Aaru, 'Field 
of Bulrushes,' as found in the Book of the Dead. 
Thus one of the chapters of the Coffin Texts is 
concerned with ' Building a House for a Man in 
the Nether World, digging a Pool, and planting 
Fruit trees.' Already the Coffin Texts exhibit 
instances of the desire, which reaches full develop- 
ment later, of furnishing the deceased with words 
of power to enable him to assume various trans- 
formations. Various texts enable him to transform 
himself into ' the blazing eye of Horus,' into an 
' ekhet-hivA,' or into 'the servant at the table of 
Hathor ' ; and along with this development comes 
another which reaches an extraordinary pitch in 
the Book of the Dead — that of charms to protect 
the deceased against the dangers of the under 
world. Thus there are charms for ' preventing 
the head of a man from being taken from him,' 
for repulsing serpents and crocodiles, for prevent- 
ing a man from being obliged to walk head down- 
wards, and so forth. This kind of rubbish, towards 
which the Egyptian mind had an extraordinary 
inclination, increases steadUy in amount until the 
really valuable morality of the Book of the Dead 
is almost choked under its senseless bulk. 

The Book of the Dead, properly so called, makes 
its appearance with the New Empire in the 16th 
and following centuries B.C., under the XVIIItli 
and XlXth dynasties. The change from inscrip- 
tions on tomb-walls to inscriptions on the inner 
surfaces of coffins is now followed by a further 
change : the texts which form the new compilation 
for the use of the de.^d are now written on rolls 
of papyrus, and placed in the coffin. The various 
versions extant from the XVIIIth to the XXIInd 
Ayn. have mainly been derived from tombs near 
Thebes, and therefore the Book of the Dead of this 
period is known as the Theban Recension. It 
cannot be too clearly understood that there never 
was a standard text, or anything even remotely 
approaching to such a thing. Probably no two 
papyri agree as to the nmnber of chapters, or the 
contents of them, and the divergencies are extra- 
ordinarily great. The size and content of the 
so-called Book of the Dead which was buried witli 
any particular man ilepended entirely upon the- 
power or the will of his friends to purchase a 
satisfactory copy for him or the reverse. The poor 
man has a miagie roll a few feet in length, con- 
taining a pitiful selection of a few of the more 
important chapters ; the rich man m.ay have a 
sumptuous version from 60 to 100 ft. in length and 
containing anything up to 120 or 130 chapters. In 
the XVIIIth dyn. the scribes began to ornament the 
text with designs in black outline, known as vig- 
nettes. Little by little the practice developed, and 
in the XlXth dyn. the illustrated papyrus had be- 
come the rule. The illustrations are often beautiful 
pieces of illumination, and sometimes attention 
has been given to them at the expense of tlie text. 

In the most notable papyri of the XXIst dyn. 
the development of the artistic work continues at 
the expense of the text, which has become very 
corrupt, and also begins to contain passages which 
are not found in the older versions. This tendency 
is accentuated in the XXIIml dyn. papyri, wliicli 
contain sections that, strictly speaking, have no 
connexion with the Book of the Dead. And from 



this time onwards there is a falling off in the 
versions, until a time is reached when no copies 
of the lx)ok seem to have been written. This 
period coincides ^^ith the decline of the power of 
the priests of Amen-Ra. 

In the XXVIth djTi., however, the book takes 
a new lease of life. It now ajipears to have been 
reduced to some sort of order, to have been, in 
fact, edited and systematized. The result of this 
editing is the Saite Recension. It contains four 
chapters which have no counterparts in the earlier 
versions. 

In the Ptolemaic period we have a version which 
is best represented by the Turin Papyrus, from 
which Lepsius prepared his well-known edition. 
It is the longest extant collection of texts, contain- 
ing nominally 165 chapters — some of them, however, 
are really vignettes, and others duplicates, the 
number of actual chapters being 153. 

Meanwhile a number of short religious works 
had been compiled, containing what at this period 
was deemed to be most essential in the old versions 
of the book, and these are more commonly found 
in the end of the Ptolemaic period than the full 
version. These are known as the Shai-en-Sensen 
('Book of Breathings'); they .contain no hymns, 
no addresses to the gods— nothing, in fact, which 
does not directly refer to the life of the deceased in 
the world beyond. They may be regarded as an 
epitome of all that the Egyptian hoped to obtain 
in the spirit world. 

In the Roman period there are still found small 
rolls of papynis inscribed with statements referring 
to tiie happiness of the deceased in the next world ; 
o.nd even in the early centuries of the Christian era 
the knowledge and use of the book were not quite 
extinct, for selections from it are found on coffins 
as late as the '2nd century. 

If we take into consideration the fragmentary 
versions in use as late as the 2nd cent. A.D., the 
actually extant documents of Egyptian religion, 
the Pyramid and Coflin Texts, and the Book of 
the Dad, cover a period of practically 3000 years 
on the most limited sj-.stem of dating ; and, allow- 
ing for the fact that even in the earliest texts 
theological ideas are to a great extent developed 
and stereotyped, we shall probably not exceed 
reasonable limits in sa3'ing that these documents 
represent the theological development of at least 
5000 years. Petrie's system of dating would, of 
course, considerably extend this period. 

The object of the Book of the Dead was simply 
and solely to secure for deceased persons eternal 
life and all the advantages which the Egyptian 
considered desirable in the world beyond the grave 
(cf. art. Death and Disposal of the Dead 
[Egyptian]). There are chapters the knowledge 
of which was intended to preserve the body from 
decay or the ravages of certain animals — e.g., ch. 
xxvi., 'Of driving away Apshait ' (the beetle or 
cockroach), and cli. xlv., ' Of not suffering connip- 
tion in the under world ' ; chapters providing 
charms against the serpent Apepi, the serpent 
Rerek, and the crocodile that comes to take away 
the charm from the deceased; chapters 'Of not 
letting a man be burnt or scalded in the under 
world,' and ' Of not eating filth or drinking filthy 
water in the under world,' and so forth. 

Generally speaking, it may be said of these 
chapters, and of many others of similar import, 
that they are somewhat melancholy reading. 
Allowance has, of course, to be made for the fact 
that they are full of allusions to a mythology the 
knowledge of which has almost absolntely perished, 
and that these allusions may have been full of 
signification to the Egyptian, though they are 
meaningless to u.s. It seems, however, that very 
early the sense of a number of the references haa 



LITERATURE (Indian Vernaciilar) 



95 



already been lost, as there are several chapters 
wliich contain glosses on the various allusions, 
and these glosses do not ahvays agree. Very often 
the cliapters do not rise ahove the level of mere 
vulgar incantation. Sometimes they consist simply 
of an endless series of names supposed to have 
magical power ; sometimes they are merely ludi- 
crous — e.g., ch. xxxiii., 'Of repulsing serpents in 
the under world ' : 

' Hail, thou seri>ent Rerek, advance not hither ! Behold Seb 
and Shu. Stand still now, and thou Shalt eat the rat which is 
an abominable thing unto Ra, and thou Shalt crunch the bones 
of a filthy cat.' 

The most important chapter of the book is 
cxxv. , wliich embodies the Egyptian conception of 
the judgment of the dead. It consists of three 
parts : the introduction, the famous ' Negative 
Confe.-ision,' and a concluding text, and is fully 
discussed in artt. C0NFES.S10N (Egyptian), and 
Ethics and Morality (Egyptian). 

The fundamental religious idea of the Egyptian 
mind was that of immortality, and it is to the 
Pyramid Texts and the Bonk of the Dead tliat we 
owe our knowledge of the extraordinary develop- 
ment which this idea had reached in Egypt at the 
earliest historical period, of the wonderful per- 
sistency with which it was maintained and worked 
out into almost endless detail, and, most of all, of 
the strange resemblances which the Egyptian con- 
ception of resurrection and immortal life presents 
to the Christian conception. The Book of the Dead 
is not to be taken as in any sense a complete state- 
ment of Egyptian belief— a thing which as yet is 
conspicuously lacking. The name sometimes given 
to it, ' Tlie Egyptian Bible,' is a total misnomer. 
But in the working out of its central theme it 
affords unquestionable evidence of the fact that the 
conception of immortality and resurrection held by 
the ancient Egyptian was such as no other religi- 
ous system of autiqnity ever approached. 

Little is told us of whether any intercourse was 
expected in the other world with the souls of those 
who had been known on earth, but chs. lii., ex., 
and clxxxix. at least indicate that the deceased 
looked forward to recognizing and being protected 
by the spirits of his father and mother. 

The other sacred books related to the Book of 
the Dead may be briefly dismissed. 

The Book of the Overthrowing of Apcpi contains 
lifteen cliapters treating of the various methods of 
destroying this enemy of souls in the under world. 
Its material is largely borrowed from the Book of 
the Dead (Papyrus of Nesi-Amsu, British Museum). 

The Book of Knowing that which is in the Diuit 
contains a description of the twelve parts of the 
under world through which the bark of the sun 
journeyed during tTie hours of night. It tells tlie 
names of these divisions, of the gates and gods be- 
longing to each, and states the advantages to be 
derived from a knowledge of these names. 

The Book of Breathings is largely a compilation 
from the Book of the Dead, and in the later periods 
was buried with the dead, being placed under the 
left arm, near the heart. 

3. Miscellaneous writings.— Under this heading 
are to be included numerous hymns of Ril, Osiris, 
Hapi, Ptah, and other gods (ef. art. Hymns [Egyp- 
tian]) ; the Festival Songs of Isis and Nepht/ii/s ; 
the Litanies of iieker ; the Lamentations of Isi.^ 
and Nephthys, and other similar works. 

The Festival Songs and Lamentations are poems 
dealing with the Osirian myth, and supposed to 
be recited by the two goddesses with a view to 
effecting the resurrection of the dead 0.siris. The 
ancient Legends of the Gods and their relations to 
mankind are found in inscriptions in several tombs 
(notably in the tomb of Seti I.) and in various 
papyri, and have been frequently translated. 



In addition there are certain books which do 
not strictly come under the heading of ' sacred,' but 
have yet a semi-religious character. Among them 
may be mentioned the Precepts of Ptah-lictep, of 
Gemnikai, of Ani, and of Khensu-hetep, writings 
essentially of the same character as the book 
of Proverbs, while the Lay if the Harper (or 
Song of King Antcf) may be compared with 
Ecclesiastes, and a remarkable comment on the 
social and moral condition of the land in the 
Middle Kingdom is found in the Admonitions of 
Jpuwer. 

Literature.— i. PYRAMID T£.rrs.— Versions: G. Maspero, 
Les Inscriptions des pyramides de Saqqarah, Paris, 1S94 ; K. 
Setbe, Die altiigyptischen Pyramidt>ntexte, Leipzig-, IPQS-IO. 
Examples of the texts are given by E. A. W. Budge, Eijiiptian 
Religion, London, 1908, and Literature of the Egyptiant^. do. 
1014. The best summary of their contL-nts and appreciation of 
their importance is found in J. H. Breasted, Development 0/ 
Religion and Thought in Aneient Eitypt, do. 1912. 

ii. The Book of the Deau.— Versions: Collin Texts, P. 
Lacau, 'Textes religieiix,' liTr xxvi. (1904 ]-xxvii. [1906], 
xxviii. [1906]-xxxiii. 11911] ; R. Lepsius, Aelteste Texte des 
Todtcnbuehs, Berlin, ISO"; S. Birch, Egyptian Texts of the 
Earliest Period from the Cojjin of Amanm, London, 1SS6; 
Budg:e, Facsimiles of Egyptian Hieratic Papyri in the British 
Museum, do. 1911. 

Book of the Dead rao;'£ff.— Versions : E. Naville, Das 
dgyp. Todtenbueh, Berlin, ISSO ; Lepsius, Turin Papyrus, 
Leipzig, 1842 ; Birch, tr. of the Turin Papyrus in C. C. J. 
Bunsen, E^iypt'-^ Place in Unieert^al History, En^^ tr., v., 
London, 1S07 ; Budge, The Book of the Dead, do. 189S (contains 
.ilso a translation of the Book of Breathings) ; Maspero, biero- 
i;i\ phic transcript witli Fr. tr. of abridged version of the Book 
of the Dead, in Les Momies royales de DHr-et-Baharl, Paris, 
1SS6. 

iii. MiscELZANEors WRmNGS.— For hymns, etc., cf. Litera- 
ture in art. Hymns (Egyptian). A good popular rendering of 
the Legends of the Gods is found in M. A. Murray, Ancient 
Kiiyptian Legends, London, 1913. Tlie Admonitions of Ipuwer 
liave been rendered by A. H. Gardiner, The Ad^nonitions of 
ft n Egyptian Sage, Leipzig, 1909. 

iv. GENERAL REFERENCES. — A. Erman, Handbook of Egyp. 
Religion, Eng. tr., London, 1007 ; A. Wiedemann, Rel. of 
the Anc. Egyptians, Eng. tr. , do. 1S97 ; P. Le Page Renouf, 
Origin and Growth of Rel. of Anc. Kgapt* (H L), do. 1S97 ; 
G. SteindoriT, Eel. of the Anc. Egyptians, Eng. tr., do. 1905 ; 
Naville, The Old Egyptian Faith, Eng. tr., do. 1909 ; G. A. 
Reisner, The Egyptian Conception of Immortalitg, do. 1912; 
A. H. Sayce, The Rel. of Anc. Egypt-, EdinburRb, 19Ki. 

J. Baikie. 
LITERATURE (Indian Vernacular). —The 
literature of the modern vernaculars of India may 
be divided into two main classes — that written 
under Musalmau, and that written under Hindu, 
influence. The former dates from the Mughul 
conquest, and was composed mainly in the Urdu 
form of Hind6.stani. Up to the introduction of 
printing at the beginning of the 19th cent, it was 
nearly all in verse and was confessedly written on 
Persian models and in Persian metres. The earliest 
works date from the 16th cent. A.D., but the 
standard of composition was set by Wall of 
Aurangabad in the Deccan, who ttonrished at 
the end of the 17th cent., and who is known as 
' the Father of lichta,' Rehta being the technical 
name for the form of Hindoslani used by these 
poets. From the Deccan the taste for this literature 
spread to Delhi, where Wall found numerous 
successors, and thence to Lucknow. The most 
celebrated of the Delhi poets were Rafi' u's-Sauda, 
best known for his satires, and Mir Taqi, famed 
for the purity of the language in which his 
Ghazals and Mathnavis were expressed. Both 
these flourished in the 18th century. Amon" the 
Lucknow poets the most celebrated was Mir 5asan 
(18th cent.). Hindostani prose hardly existed as 
literature till the foundation of the College of Fort 
William in Calcutta at the commencement of the 
19th century. It began with the preparation of 
text-books for students at the College, and .since 
then has had a prosperous existence. It has been 
specially successful in the department of fiction. 
Tlie novels of such authors as Katan Nath Sarshar 
and'Abdu'l 5alim Sharar are worthy of a wider 
circle of readers than that to which they are 



96 



LITERATURE (Indian Vernacular) 



condemned by the language in which they arc 
written. 

Altliough the above literature grew up under 
Musalnifin auspices, its lanj;aa<;e has been success- 
fully ailo|ite(l by many educated Hindus, some of 
wluMii are looked upon at the present day as 
masters of an exceptiuually jiure style. 

The beginnings of Hindu literature in the modern 
vernaculars were religious. In the North, up to 
about the 16th cent. A.D., the language of religion 
was Sanskrit, but, in the South, vernaculars were 
employed at a muvh earlier period. There is a 
great collection of Saivite texts in Tamil, said to 
go back to the 2nd or 3rd century. The more 
important of them are described in the art. 
DliAVIDlANS (South India). To these can be added 
a long list of Vaisnavite works in the same language 
dating from before the time of Kanianuja (12tli 
cent.). The most noteworthy of these are referred 
to by A. Govindacbarya in two papers in the JHAS 
(1910, p. 565 If., and 1911, p. 935 tl".). The Dravidian 
doctors employed both Sanskrit and Tamil for 
their writings. As a rule, it may be said that the 
Vadagalais, or Northern Tamils, wrote in Sanskrit, 
while the Teiigalais, or Southerners, wrote in 
Tamil (cf. Govindacbarya, in JEAS, 1912, p. 714). 

In Northern India vernacular religious literature 
is of enormous extent and, considered merely as 
literature, of great merit. It owes its origin to 
the spread of the Vaisnavite Bhakti-Mar^a under 
Ramananda and his followers (see art. Bhakti- 
Marga, vol. ii. p. 539 H'., esp. 546). All the great 
writers of this early period belonged to humble 
ranks of life, and were not Sanskrit scholars. 
Each therefore wrote in his own vernacular. 

'The g^reatest of all the moderns, Tulsl Das, although a 
Brahman by caste, was abandoned by his parents at birth, and 
waa picked up and educated by a wanderiiij; ascetic. Kabir 
was a weaver, and Dildii a humble cotton-carder. Namdev, 
the founder of Mar.a^ha poetry, was a tailor, and his most 
famous successor, Tuitarani, a strugglinfj Sudra shoplceeper. 
Tinnalluvar, the brightest star in the South Indian tirnmment, 
was a Pariah, the lowest of the low; and Vcmana, the most 
admired of Telugu writers, was an untauf^ht peasant.* ^ 

In Northern India this Wi«/i<i-literature falls 
into two groups — that devoted to Ramachandra, 
and that devoted to Kr.sna (Krishna). In both 
cases it includes not only devotional works, but 
all branches of literature ancillary thereto. 

In the art. Bhakti-Marga (vol. ii. p. 543) it has 
been pointed out that the foundation of the religion 
is the belief in the fatherhood of God. This is 
more especially true as regards that literature in 
which Ramailiandra is regarded as the most perfect 
presentation of the Deity, and on this idea is based 
some of the most lofty poetry that India, ancient 
or modern, has produced. In the Ganges valley, 
Kabir (15tli cent.) preached the doctrine in wise 
and pithy sayings that are still househobl words in 
Hindostan. An offshoot from his tcacbiiig was the 
Sikh religion, whose sacred book, the Adi Grnnth, 
is a collection of hymns by various atithors formed 
by degrees in the course of the 16th century (see artt. 
(iRANTH, SlKll-s). Both Kabir and Nanak (the 
founder of Sikhism) were more or less sectarian in 
their teaching. A greater man than either, but 
the founder of no sect, was the famous poet Tulsi 
Das (16th-17th cent.), the author of the religious 
epic entitled the Rdmacharita-manasa, or ' Lake 
of the Gestes of Rama,' and of at least eleven other 
important works. His influence down to the 
present day over the people of Hindostan cannot 
be overrated. Tulsi Das was a native of Awadli 
(Oudh), and this countrj' was the scene of Rama- 
chandra's early life and of his latest years. The 
poet, therefore, wrote in the Awadhi dialect of 
Eastern Hindi, and this form of speech has ever 
since, in the (Janges valley, been the only one 
employed for celebrating the deeds of liama- 
' O. A. Oricrson, in Kit ii. 41fi. 



Chandra, and, indeed, for epic poetry of every 
description. 

In Hindostan proper, numerous followers and 
imitators of Tulsi Das have narrated the storj' of 
Itamachandra, and the same subject has also, 
though to a less extent, attracted writers in other 
parts of India. In Bengali there is the 16th cent. 
KdmSyana oi Kirttibas Ojha, which is still recited 
at village festivals. In Marathi, the learned 
JNIoropant wrote several poems dealing with Rama, 
but the favourite deity of this language is Krsna. 
In the south of India we have a Tamil linmuyana 
written by Kamban in the 11th cent., a Malayalam 
Rdma-charita of the 13th or 14th cent., and a 
Kanarese Ramayana by Kumara Valmiki, said to 
be one of the oldest works in that language. 

The literature based on the presentation of 
Krsna as the De^^y diH'ers from the Rama-literature 
in one important particular. The love of God is 
represented, not as that of a father to his child, 
but as that of a man for a maid. The soul's 
devotion to the Deity is pictured by the self- 
abandonment to Kr§na of his queen Radha, and all 
the hot blood of Oriental passion is encouraged to 
pour forth one mighty torrent of prayer and praise 
to the divine Lover. The whole idea is based on 
sexual relations ; and, though the mystics who first 
wrote of it did so in all purity of conscience, in 
later years it developed into erotic poetry of a 
character too gross for description. 

It is natural that most of the literature of this 
school should take a lyric form. According to 
tradition, Krsna's earlier exploits centred round 
the town of JNlathura, and it was from this locality 
that his worship in the Ganges valley spread to 
other parts of Northern India. Hence, just as the 
Rama-literature is couched in AwadhT, so the 
Krsna-literature of Hindostan is mainl}' recorded 
in the Braj Bhakha dialect spoken round Mathura. 
Its most famous \yriter was Sur D5s(16th cent.), 
the blind bard of Agra. His Silra-sacfara, or 'The 
Ocean (of songs) of Sur Das,' and the epic of Tulsi 
Das are considered to have exhausted between 
them all the possibilities of Indian poetry — no 
later poet could write anything original. In spite 
of this dictum, one later writer in Braj Bhakha, 
Bihilrl Lai of Jaipur (17th cent.), composed the 
Sat Sal, or ' Seven Centuries ' of verses, a collection 
of seven hundred masterpieces in dainty miniature 
painting of scenes or incidents in the life of Krsna. 
Numerous other writers connected with this phase 
of religion followed Sur Das in the Ganges valley. 
In Bihar, to the east, he was preceded by Vidya- 
pati 'rii.akur (15th cent.), who, however, wrote in 
Ids own language, an old form of Bihari. He was 
the first of the old master-singers of Eastern India, 
and was followed and imitated by Chaitanya and 
other religious lyric poets in Bengali. Assam, 
further east, and, in the west, Rajputana, Kash- 
mir, Gujarat, and the Maratha country have all 
been prolific in this style of composition, the most 
famous writers being Mira Bai, the queen poetess 
of Mewar (15th cent.), and Tukaram (17th cent.) 
the Maratha. In the south of India we have the 
great Tamil by mnology , the NCildyira-prabandham, 
some of the contents of which are said to date from 
the 12th cent., and, in Telugu, the BIwcjavnta of 
Bamraera Potaraja, which ranks as a classic. 
There are also several works in Kanarese. ^ 

Reference has already been made to the Saivite 
literature of S. Indi.j. There is a considerable 
literature devoted to Siva in the north. The best 
known is that (d Bengal, where the worship of 
Durga, the ktkti, or energic power of Siva, is 
very iiopular. There were numerous writers who 
dealt with the worship of this goddess. The most 
admired is probably .Mukundarama Chakravarti 
(17th cent.), author of the Srimanta Saudagar, 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



97 



or 'Adventures of the Mercliant Srimanta,' and 
the Chand'i, a poem in praise of the goddess 
Durga. JExtracts from thelatter have been trans- 
lated into English verse by E. B. Cowell {JASBc 
Ixxi. [1902], extra no.)- Tliere is also a consider- 
able Saivit? literature in Kashmir- This directly 
deals with Siva, rather than with his iakti, and is 
more in agreement with the Saivite writings of the 
South described in the art. Dr.\vidian.s (b. India)- 

A few lines must be devoted to the non-religious 
vernacular literature of India. Of great importance 
are the bardic chronicles of Kajputana, Gujarat, 
and the Maratha country- The name of the earli- 
est and most famous of these, the Prithiriij Basau 
of Chand Bardai (lith cent-), is familiar to students 
of J. Tod's Rajasthan (London, 1829-32, frequently 
reprinted), in which the poem is freely quoted. A 
semi-historical work, the Padumdwati of Malik 
Muhammad, is an epic poem in Awadlii of con- 
siderable merit. 

The technical study of jjoetics gave rise to a 
large literature, to a certain extent ancillaiy to 
the literature of religion. Its most famous WTiter 
in Northern India was Kesav Das of Bundelkhand 
(16th cent.), who wrote in Braj Bhakha. 

The introduction of printing into India has given 
an immense impetus to the writing of Irooks. It 
is impossible to deal with the results of this great 
increase in the mass of reading matter, good and 
bad ; it must suffice to say that, so far as Hindu 
literature is concerned, it has tended more and 
more to follow English models. The only writer 
in the vernacular who has gained a high reputa- 
tion in both Europe and Asia on the grounds of 
originality and imagination is the modem Bengali 
poet Kabindra Niitli Tagore. 

LiTKRATURB. — The only work attempting to deal with tlie 
vernacular literature of" India as a whole is R. W. Frazer, 
A Literary History oj India, London, 139S ; G. A. Grierson, 
in IGI, vol. ii. (Oxford, 190S), ch- .xi., may also be consulted. 
Brief and incomplete atx^ounts of the literatures of most of the 
literary Iang:uaj5'e6 of S. India have appeared in such periodicals 
as lA and in prefaces to grammars and dictionaries. For 
Marathi literature the English student can find tiie most ac- 
cessible account in the preface to J. T. Molesworth, Marathi 
Dictionary '^, Bombay, 1S57. For Bengali see Dinesb Chandra 
Sen, History of Bentjati Language and Literature, Calcutta, 
1911, the philological part« of which should be used with 
caution, and a valuable collection of selections from Bengali 
lit-erature entitled Vanga Sdhitya Parichaya, Calcutta, 19H. 
For N. India generally cf. G. A. Grierson. The Modern Verna- 
cular Liteiature of Hindu^dn, Calcutta, 1SS9 ; the dates in 
this are frequently taken from native sources, and are not 
always to be relied upon. See also C. J. Lyall, art. ' Hindo- 
sjani Literature,' KBr^^ .xiii. 4.83ff. ; and Ganesa Vihari Miira, 
Syama Vihari Misra, and Sukadeva Vihari Misra, Miira- 
bandhu-rinoia (Uindi), in course of publication, pt. i.. Khaijdwa 
and Allahabad, 1913. G. A. GRIERSON. 

LITERATURE (Jewish).— The term 'Jewish 
literature ' is used to cover those writings of the 
Jewish people which were composed after the com- 
pletion of the Biblical (OT) canon, and which are 
devoted to the tliscussion or exposition of Judaism 
— its teachings, its history, and its documentary 
sources — and designed primarily for Jewish readers. 
This definition excludes all such works of Jewish 
authorship as, though written in Hebrew and meant 
for Jewish readers, deal with matters of general 
learning or literature. 

I. The traxsition from oral tradition to 
WRITTEN RECORDS. — Between the completion of 
the Hebrew canon and the rise of Jewish liteiature 
there is an interval of several hundred years, and 
the reason why the literary activity of the Jews 
was so long in abeyance is that they regarded it as 
unlawful to commit their teachings to writing. 
The Scripture, as the Book par excellenec, could 
suffer no other book to approacli it ; all supple- 
mentary doctrine must be imparted orally (.niin 
."IB '7V2V) ; ' to set down the oral teaching in 
writing is forbidden.' Thus even the Biblical 
Apocrypha were "regarded as D'Jis'n D-niD, ' ex- 
VOL. VIII. — 7 



traneous books.' The idea that the production 
of new works was unlawful must Iiave been pre- 
valent by the time of the elder Sirach, and hence 
his collection of proverbs could not be received into 
the canon ; an author who wished to reach the 
public by a book had to publish it under some 
ancient and venerable name, such as Daniel. 
That the Alexandrian Jews were at that time 
displaying a remarkable literai"y fertility ditl not 
aftect the Jewish authorities in Palestine at all, 
for the works of the former were written in Greek, 
and could, therefore, make no claim to canonicity. 
Thus all the creations of the Jewish mind in this 
epoch remained unwritten ; translations of the 
Bible, prayers, academic and popular instruction, 
the development of law and custom, of ethics and 
religion — all these were carried on by oral instruc- 
tion onlj'. Apart from letters and fugitive notes 
relating chiefly to ancient pedigiees,' there is only 
a single document that has come down from ancient 
times in a written form, viz. the roll of festivals 
(n'jj^n n^iD), a list of joyous memorial days of the 
Jewish nation (Jth 8", x''P/"><''t'''c' oiVoi/ 'l<Tpari\) — 
that remarkable Aramaic calendar which stands 
as a monument of Jewish national pride, though 
it is extant only in a revised form with relatively 
late scholia {JE viii. -127 f.). 

It would appear that as regards the Haggada 
the interdict upon written communication was 
somewhat relaxed soon after the fall of the Je\vish 
State, while as regards the Halakha it was still 
rigidly observed (Bab. Gitlin, 606). The first com- 
plete literary product of post-Biblical Judaism is 
the Mishna, which wa.s redacted c. A.D. 200 by R. 
Judah Nasi. Whether the Mishna was at once 
committed to writing is a question which is still — 
as it has been for a thousand years — a subject of 
controversy among scholars ; and, while there are 
ostensible indications of its having been in written 
form from the first, yet our reliable sources rather 
support the hypothesis that at the time of its 
redaction and even for centuries afterwards it was 
.■>till transmitted in a purely oral form (JE riii. 
614). By the time we reach the redaction of the 
Babylonian Talmud, however (c. A.D. 500), the 
ancient prohibition must at length have been set 
aside, the change being necessitated, indeed, by 
tlie exigencies of the period — the repeated inter- 
ference of the State in forbidding the continuance 
of the seminaries in their traditional ways — and 
also by the enormous growth of the material, 
which had now become too great a load for the 
human memory. In view of these facts, the last 
of the Amoraim and the Saboralm found it neces- 
sary to break with the past by committing the 
Talmud to writing, and thej' thereby cleared the 
ground for the gi'owth of a Jewish literature. 
Once the ban against writing had thus been lifted 
from the Halakha — that important domain where 
the interdict had been observed most rigorously — 
Jewish scholars formed the resolution, hesitat- 
ingly at fii'st, but with time ever the more con- 
fidently, to write down and make more generally 
known the facts of their people's life and doctrine. 

II. Literary PERIODS.--Je'Kish literature, in 
the fifteen centuries of its development, has passed 
through a variety of phases. To the period from 
f. A.D. 500 to 1000 we must assign its initial stages, 
in which the various branches of literature had to 
be evolved and wrought into form. While formerly 
knowledge of everj' kind was contained and indis- 
criminately massed together in the Talmud, special 
departments were now gradually disengaged from 
the mass, and h ere dealt with in monographs and 
more or less systematically. To llie GaOn Sa'adya 
b. Joseph (A.D. 892-942 ; see art. Sa'adya) belongs 

1 Cf. Joel Midler, Briefe vnd Reif!>nn9en aus der vorgaond- 
ischenjiidischen Litcratnr, Berlin, ISit:. 



98 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



the distinction of having been the first to treat of 
the most widely varied branches of Jewish the- 
ology in special works, and thus to have laboured 
as a pioneer, so that he has been rin;htly named 
• the chief of the speakers in every place.' From 
A.D. 1000 to 1200 Jewish literature passed through 
its mediiBval period of fertility in two ramifications, 
viz. a Hispano-Arabic, which displays a powerful 
tendency to scientific thoroughness and systemati- 
zation, and a Franco-German, which in more 
characteristic fashion further elaborated the tradi- 
tional materials of knowledge. Tlie period from 
1200 to 1500 waa one of decline, and from 1500 to 
1750 one of profound decadence, during which the 
literary activity of the Jews was niainlj' confined 
to Poland and the East ; but, from the advent of 
Moses Mendelssohn {[g.v.] 1729-86), Jewish litera- 
ture, now in contact with the spirit of European 
culture, experienced a fresh revival which, mainly 
under the influence of Leopold Zuuz (1794-1886), 
developed into a scientific treatment of Judaism, 
i.e. a methodical and critical discussion of the 
thought expressed in the Jewish teachings and 
evolved from the Jewish mind, and has since foiuid 
expression in numerous works, not onlj' in Hebrew, 
but in all the languages of Europe. We cannot 
liere trace Jewish literature throughout its various 
epochs and in all its phases ; it must suffice to exaiu- 
ine the chief departments in which it was speciallj' 
active, to indicate the tendencies that asserted 
themselves in it, and to search for the reasons that 
led to the success of this or that particular work. 
A characteristic feature of Jewish literature, as 
contrasted with the literatures of otlier peoples, is 
that it is not so much the work of individual 
authors as the collective product of the spirit 
of entire epochs. In many cases, too, it is Ul pre- 
served — a result of the fact that it was not studied 
by the learned only, but spread among all classes; 
and, further, tliat it did not merely serve an intel- 
lectual interest, but also provided for a religious 
need, and was in consequence often disseminated 
and transmitted by untrained hands, in a form 
very ditt'erent from what was originally intended. 

III. The SEVER.iL DEPARTJIEXTS OF JEWISH 
LITERATURE. — Jewish literature in its entire 
range may be conveniently brought under the 
following categories, with which we shall deal in 
order: (1) Scripture study and investigation of 
the Helirew language ; (2) works relating to the 
Talmud ; (3) historical literature ; (4) systematic 
theology ; and (5) liturgical and secular poetry. 

I. Scripture study and investigation ot the 
Hebrew language.— Jewish literature is first of 
all, as it was originally, exegesis of .Scripture — 
Biblical study in the broadest sense of the term. 
Targum and Midrash constitute its earliest forms, 
and perhaps the two were originally one, for the 
Tarffum was of the nature of (laraphrase, and thus 
involved a kind of exegesis. Traces of the old, non- 
literal rendering of the Scriptures are found in the 
so-called Palestinian Targuins — the Targiim of 
Jonathan and the Fragmentary Targum. For the 
Pentateucli, however, the rendering to wliich 
Aquila first gave the name of the Targum of 
Onqelos, and whicli a.ssumed its definitive form in 
the Babylonian schools of the 3rd cent. .\.T>., 
became the standard of autliority ; it was recited 
in the synagogue, and was generally regarded by 
the Jews as the Targum. For the Prophets, again, 
the acknowledged standard was the so-callcd 
Targum of Jonathan— not much later in date 
than that of Onqelos ; while here, too, the other 
Palestinian Targums fell into tlie backgrouml. 
For the Hagiographa there was in tlie period of the 
Talmud no recognized Targum at all, and the 
renderings whicli we now i)os.?ess were separately 
executed in the course of centuries, some of them. 



indeed, not having been completed till after A.D. 
1000 (cf. J"£ xiL 57fi.). 'Midrash' (y.r.) denotes 
exposition of Scripture, and was at first attached to 
the particular passages explained ; but in the Bible 
itself we find the word used in the sense of a repro- 
duction of older narratives (2 Ch 24"; cf. 13''). 
The Midrash was of a twofold character ; from the 
text of Scripture it evolved laws — the H&lakha — 
or else deduced moral and religious teachings, 
adding stories and parables — the Haggada. The 
Halakhio Midrash was compiled chiefly in the 
schools of K. Ishraael ben Elisha (early 2nd cent. 
AD.) and R. 'Aqiba (see art. Akiba BEN Joseph), 
and the latter school continued to be regarded as 
authoritative ; the work of both schools, however, 
being in the mass subsequently lost, has come down 
to us in mere fragments ; and it is only recently that 
we have been able with the help of the Midrash 
haq-GadhOl, a compilation of the 13th cent., written 
in Yemen, to piece the remains together, and obtain 
an approximate idea of the form of the ancient 
Midrashtm. The Haggadic Midrash is of vast 
extent ; much of it is included in the Talmud, but 
it is found also in special collections. Leaving out 
of account the immense number of smaller ilid- 
rashSm (JE ^-iii. 572tt'. ), we may distinguish the 
following great compilations : the Midrash Rabba 
or Midrash Rabboth to the Pentateuch and the 
Five M^gilloth, to Esther, Ruth, Song of Solomon, 
Lamentations, and Ecclesiastes, the Tanhuma to 
the Pentateuch, and the Midrash to the Psalms, 
Proverbs, and Samuel ; but, while all these con- 
tinuously follow the order of their respective texts, 
tlie P^siqta collections deal only with selected por- 
tions of the Torah or of the Prophets, for use at 
festivals or on special Sabbaths. Mention should 
also be made of the two great Midrashic compila- 
tions known respectively as the YalqiitShim 6nl, 
which probably took shape in Germany during the 
12th cent. A.D., and embraces the entire Bible, and 
the Midrash hag-Gddli6l of Yemen already referred 
to, which is confined to the Pentateuch (ib. 557 ff.). 
The Haggadic Midrasli has been brought within 
the reach of contemporary scholarship by the 
monumental works of Wilhelm Baclier, Die Agada 
der babytonischen Amorder, Strassburg, 1878, Die 
Agada dcr Tannaiten, do. 1890, 1902, and Die 
Agada der paldstin. Aynorder, do. 1892-99. 

The Midrash frequently gives simple explana- 
tions of the words and meaning of the Scripture 
text, but this is by no means its primary interest ; 
in the main it Ls concerned with religious and 
devotional ends. Jewish scholarship did not 
evolve a rational exegesis of its own — exegesis 
in the scientific sense — till the time of Sa'adya, 
who was a pioneer and wrote independent com- 
mentaries upon, as also a translation of, the whole 
Bible. In Ids excursuses he, too, writes with a 
religious purpose ; but, on the whole, his chief 
concern is the rationalistic, grammatical, and 
lexical exposition of Scripture. The movement 
which he initiated owes its further development 
in the main to European scliolars. In Europe 
there arose two great exegetical schools, one in 
Spain, the other in Northern Fiance. The Spanish 
school was largely influenced by Arabic learn- 
ing, and its most prominent representative was 
Abraham ibn Ezra (1093-1168), whose works super- 
seded those of all his predecessors (cf. JE vi. 520 ff., 
and art. IBS' Ezra, § i). His commentaries had 
an extraordinary popularity ; they have come 
down to us in various MS copies, and were ap- 
pended to tlie first jirintcd editions of the Bibh;. 
The Nortliern French .school, again, while it cer- 
tainly lacked the scientific bent, the philological 
foundation, and the general culture of tiie Spanish, 
yet by its devoted study of the Biblical text and 
its sympathy with the spirit of the written word 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



90 



did a large amount of liiglily meritorious and 
exemplary work for the discovery of the verl)al 
sense. It failed to gain recognition in its ripest 
representatives, who — particularly Samuel b. Meir 
(c. 1085-c. 1174) — have, in fact, been re-discovered 
by modern scholarship ; but the favourite and 
most widely circulated commentary of the Middle 
Ages was the work of Solomon b. Isaac of Troyes, 
called Kashi (1040-1105), who combined the old 
method of the Midrash with the etl'ort to ascertain 
the plain meaning ; and consequently, though he 
certainly gives the dry details of exegesis, we also 
find in his work passages of an attractive and 
edifying character. His commentai'y eclipsed 
all others in general esteem ; from the outset 
to the present day it has been widely read, and 
has formed a subject of study by itself ; while 
in the cour.se of centuries it has drawn to itself 
over a liundred special commentaries, and ranks in 
the jiopular mind as ' the commentary ' kut i^oxw 
(cf. .IE X. 324 ft'. ). A blending of the characteristic 
tendencies of the Spanish and Northern French 
schools appears among the scholars of Provence, 
from whose group sprang David Kimhi (1160-1233 : 
cf. JE vii. 494 f.), whose exegetieal works on the 
Prophets and the Hagiographa were specially 
prized. The re-discovery of the predecessors and 
successors of the exegetes named, as also the his- 
torical evaluation of the entire literature of the 
period, lias been the work of modern scholarship. 
In Kimhi's commentaries we find a new type of 
exegesis — the philosophical, which soon passed into 
the mystical. Of the works that favour this type, 
those especially which were able to bring their more 
stubborn materials into a popular and generally 
accessible form attained a great vogue. These 
include the long-popular commentaries of Don 
Isaac Abarbanel (1437-150S; cf. JE i. 126), and 
also those of the so-called Biiirists {JE iii. 232), 
dating from the age immediately after Moses 
Mendelssohn. On the whole field of exegetieal 
literature cf. JE iii. 162-176. 

Closely associated with the exegesis of Scripture 
were the works dealing with Hebrew philology. 
Linguistic studj- among the Jews was but rarely 
regarded as an end in itself, but, as the science of 
the language in whicli the Scripture was written, 
was pursued mainly as an adjunct to Biblical 
investigation. The literary treatment of Hebrew 
grammar and lexieographj' M'as systematically pro- 
secuted by the Hispano-Arabic school, the masterly 
works of which, however, were composed in Arabic, 
and accordingly, even when translated into Hebrew, 
attracted but little notice ; the philological writings 
of Judah b. David Hayyuj (b. c. 950 ; JE vi. 277 f.) 
and Abu al-Walid Marwan ibn Janah (early lltli 
cent. ; ib. vi. 534 ff.), important as they are, were 
re-discovered only recently. The works of Abraham 
ibn Ezra enjoyed an enormous vogue, as did also, 
and even in a still greater degree, the grammar 
and dictionary of David Kimhi, which have in 
many quarters retained their pre-eminence until 
recent times. From the 15th cent., however, a 
marked decline in linguistic studies began ; in pro- 
portion as mysticism prevailed, interest in the 
exact investigation of Hebrew fell away ; the 
works of Elijah Levita (1468-1549; cf. JE viii. 
46) attracted much less notice in Jewish tlian in 
Christian circles. Philology remained in a state 
of neglect until it was restored to its rightful posi- 
tion by the Mendelssohnian group ; the manuals of 
J. L. 'Ben-Ze'eb (1764-1811; JE ii. 681 tf.) were 
widely studied until thej' were superseded by more 
modern and more competent works. The revival 
of Hebrew philology was due in a very special 
degree to the pioneer work of S. D. Luzzatto 
(1800-6.5 ; cf. JEviii. 22411'.). Luzzatto was at tlie 
same time the first Jewish scholar for centuries 



who combined the study of the language with the 
exegesis of Scripture, and may also be regarded as 
the most eminent independent representative of 
Biblical literature among the Jews of last century. 
With the name of Luzzatto that of Abraham Geiger 
(1810-74) deserves to be specially associated. Speak- 
ing generally, we may say that the Biblical scienci' 
of the Jews during last century was profoundly 
influenced by tlie contemporary critical works ol 
Christian scholars in the same field. 

2. Works relating to the Talmud.— The Talmud 
came to be the most important, the most compre- 
hensive, and the most highly esteemed branch of 
Jewish literature ; it is in a sense bound up with 
Biblical study, as its germs are found in the Mid- 
rash, and as it purports to be nothing more than an 
exposition of and a complement to the Scriptures. 
It consists of two parts, the Mishna and its eluci- 
dation, the latter being the Talmud in the narrower 
sense ; the term G'mara, which is usually applied 
to the second part, is of relatively late origin, and 
was introduced into the text by the clerical censor- 
ship. Our use of the expression ' the Talmud ' 
involves a presumption due to the facts of historical 
tlevelopment ; for, although there is but one Mishna, 
there are two commentaries upon it — one of Pales- 
tinian, the other of Babylonian, origin. In the 
process of historical development, however, the 
seminaries of Palestine were early dissolved, while 
tlio-se of Babylonia maintained their position, and 
succeeded in establishing the regulative supremacy 
of their views and decisions. Tlie result was that, 
although in tlie earlier period the Palestinian 
scholars were held in great honour, and their 
decisions sought in all important questions, eventu- 
ally the scholars of Babylonia came to be the sole 
recognized authorities. In the age of the G"6nini 
(c. 600-1040) the Babylonian Talmud had secured 
so high a place in general esteem that its Pales- 
tinian counterpart was virtually forgotten ; and 
when, about the year 1000, the latter was once 
more brought to mind, consolatiim for its long 
neglect was sought in the pretext that the decisions 
of the Palestinian scholars had been known to the 
Babylonians, and had been duly taken into con- 
sideration by them. In consequence, the Pales- 
tinian Talmud remained in comparative obscurity ; 
it was not studied to anything like the same extent 
as the Baljylonian, nor did it find a single commen- 
tator during the entire mediaeval period ; moreover, 
its text suffered such gross deterioration tliat v e 
can now scarcely hope to see it restored even to a 
semblance of its original form. It should be noted, 
liowever, that a few Halakhic collections from 
Palestine, the so-called Minor Tractates, were 
appended to the Babylonian Talmud, and were 
studied in conjunction with it, thus becoming a 
factor in the further development of religious 
practice and religious law. The two Talmuds are 
not related -to the Mishna in the same way ; in the 
Palestinian Talmud we have the commentary to 
forty Mishnaic Tractates, belonging to the first 
four Orders ; in the Babylonian we have thirty- 
six only, principally from the second, third, fourth, 
and fifth Orders, while of the first and sixth Orders 
only one tractate in each is dealt with. 

As the Talmud, until the dawn of the modern 
epoch, occupied the central place in Jewish learn- 
ing, and formed the supreme standard of religious 
thought and practice among the Jews, it became 
tlie nucleus of an enormous literature, which, in 
connexion with its more outstanding representa- 
tives, may be summarized in the following flivisions. 

(a) Exylanalori/ workf. — For so intricate a work as the 
Talmud, explanation was indispensable; its own expositions were 
frequently very brief, and the linlvs of connexion could be sup- 
plied only by those who had been initiated into the peculiar 
mode of its dialectic ; moreover, the language of the Jews, like 
their general conditions of life, underwent in process of time 



100 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



rtidical changes, and was no longer the panie as was presupposed 
in the Taliiiiul. The need of explanation was felt at an early 
date, and noon, indeed, exjilanatory notes seem to have been 
attached to the to\t and transmitted with it; thus we find 
writers o( the lUth cent, quoting verbatim from (tomuients 
datinc; from the etli.i On the other hand, what we may callan 
expository lileniture was not evolved till a much later day, for 
it was the G-^cmim of the 10th cent, who first felt constrained to 
supply written comnientJi— first of all in the form of explana- 
tions of words ; and these, ag-ain, were the (fcrms of the com- 
prehensive dictionaries, of which the most celebrated was the 
'Irukh of Nathan b. Jetiiel of Uome (f HOG ; cf. JE ix. 180ff.). 
The flretcommentaries in the ordinary sense, however, were pro- 
duced in N. Africa c. a.d. 1000 ; besides explaininj^ words, they 
gave short notes elucidating the context, The most important 
of these N. African commentaries is that of It. I.lananel b. 
tlushiel of Kairwau (990-1U50 ; cf. JE vi. 2ii5). In .Spain little 
progress was made in the composition of cominentaries, 
although it was in that country that the most influential 
Mishna commentary of the filiddle Ages was composed, viz. 
that of Moses Maimonides ([g.v.] 1135-rJ04 ; cf. Ji/ ix. 73ff.), 
written originally in Arabic, but afterwards translated into 
Hebrew, and from the time that it was first printed (1492) to 
the present day regularly embodied in editions of the Mishna 
or the Talmud." The most notable contributions to the exposi- 
tion of the Talmud were produced in Germany and Fran(re. 
Taimudic learning, carrying with it the earliest commentaries, 
epread by way of Italy to Germany, R. Gershom b. Judah, 
• the Light of "the Exile ' (t 1040 ; cf. JE v. 638 f.), who tauglit 
in Mainz, gave the impulse to a new method of Taimudic exposi- 
tion. His school not only dealt in the nioyt thorough manner 
with details, but attached great importance to bringing out 
the connexion of thought ; and from that school emanated the 
most notable of all commentaries on tlie Talmud, that of Itashi 
mentioned above. Its greatness lies in the fact that its author, 
with the self-restraint of genius, surrenders his mind wholly to 
the text, suppressing his own opinions, and bent only upon dis- 
covering and exhibiting the thought of the original writer. 
Raahi never introduces sujierfluous matter ; nor, again, does he 
ever gloss over a difficulty ; he either gives a solution of it or 
modestly confesses that he has none to suggest. The work 
caine to be used as an indispensable auxiliary to the study of 
the Talmud ; it superseded all previous conmientaries, and 
threw all the later into the shade. Wliile much of the exposi- 
tory literature of that age was buried in oblivion until the 
modern period, Rashi's work was frequently conjoined with 
the MSS of the Talumd, and it has been bound up with the 
printed editions from the first; even at the present day, in- 
deed, it is regarded as an essential adjunct to the study of the 
Talmud, and no less as a work on the whole unrivalled in its 
method. The French schools sought to supplement Rashi ; they 
occasionally felt the need of a more dialectical mode of exposi- 
tion, and "thought that the text of the Talmud should be 
furnished with decisions of the questions proi>osed and \\ith 
references to practical life ; and, finding none of these things 
in Rashi's work, they wrote supplementary notes, t6mj'6th, 
which, however, did not run contmuously with the text, but 
here and there supplied comments of the desiderated type upon 
particular passacres. Of these TOsafists numerous schools arose 
in Germany and France during the 12th and Kith centuries ; 
the works which they produced were much studied in the 
Middle Ages, and afterwards, from the time when the Talmud 
was first printed in its entirety (Venice, 1520), a number of 
them, selecled for purposes of study, were issued in con- 
junction with it (cf. JE xii. 202 fit.). A peculiar development 
of the expository literature ai>pear3 in the so-called 'novels' 
iiiiddxtshim), which, takin.; their pattern from the works of 
Nal3manides(1194-c. 1270) and .Solomon b. Adreth (1235-1310), 
continued to be produced for hundreds of years from the 13th 
cent, ; thej' were really conmientaries in the form of treatises on 
entire sections of the Talmud. Taimudic commentaries finally 
degenerated into mere empty dialectic, and this was specially 
the '-ase in Germany and Poland from the 15tb century. 

As regards the Palestinian Talmud, the Middle Ages scarcely 
produced a single conuuentatnr, and the modern period not 
even one, who deals with it from beginning to end. Tha best 
known and most widely circulated commentaries to it are the 
Qdrbfin h.a-'£dha of David Fninkel, the teacher of Moses 
Mendelssohn, and the Pne MOshe of Moses Margolioth (c. 1700). 
For the literature of the commentaries see J E xii. 28 ft. 

{b) Vompendi<i.—\S\\\\(t the Talnnid was regarded as the 
Bt&ndard to whic:h all religious institutions must conform and 
by which all questions of law nuist be solved, it was, never- 
theless, but ill adapted to facilitate consultation for the de- 
cisions that were often required in practical life. Ajiart from 
the fact that it was a work of vast conq»ass, such as scarcely 
a fiiiigle individual could completely master, it confined itself 
almost wholly to the discussion of the questions which it raised, 
and hardly ever gave a decision as to which of the opinions 
which it presented should be regarded as authoritative. Fur- 
ther, its matter is not always systematically arranged ; it 
frequently passes abruptly from one theme to another, so that 
its aiscu-iusionH of a ningle question have often to be sought for 
and examined in widely flei)arate places. In order to remedy 
these defect*, Yehudai, (.Jaon in Sura, had (c. A.t>. 7r>0) drawn up 
a com]>endium of /nilakh^tth, which was subsequently revised, 
enlarged, and, as the UtlldkhUh Q'dh6l6ib, givert a place in the 
religious literature by Simon Qayyara (c. 850), from whose time 



» Cf. N. rr:ill, Jahibxicher Jur jiid. Uctfch. uiid Litt.t ii. 
(i<>aukfort, lS7tf) 43. 



it has been taken into account as a basis for all decisions (cf. 
JE vii. 461 fl.). The UMdkhvth G'^dhdh'th often follows the 
Talmud's own order, and, while abridging its discussions, it 
reproduces them with verbal accuracy, and in such a way as to 
make the final question quite clear. The same method was 
adopted by Isaac b. Jacob Alfasi (1013-1103), whose work was 
diligently studied, and was likewise used as a basis for decisions. 
This type of s^ noi>tical abridgment of the Talmud became the 
work of a special school, mainly in Spain, where it was culti- 
vated by many scholars — and with outstanding success by 
Asher b. Jehiel (t 1327), a native of Germany, wlio took Alfasi's 
text as his groundwork, and added to it numerous notes from 
the Tosafists ; his compendium is generally given in the printed 
editions of the Talmud. 

Another mode of epitomizing the matter of the Talmud was 
to arrange it under tlie 'Six hundred and thirteen command- 
ments and prohibitions,' an arrangement which is first found as 
an introduction to the lldldkhoth <i^'dh6l6th, and was subse- 
quently often reproduced in comprehensive forms. The most 
important work of this class is the Srfer ham-Mifw6th of Moses 
.Maimonides, which, originally written in Arabic, was several 
times translated into Hebrew, and found many opponents and 
many imitators (cf. J/v" iv. 181 ff.). 

The most impurLant and practically most serviceable type of 
compendium, however, was the 'Code' in the narrower sense 
of the word. Here, too, Maimonides stands au})reme ; his Muhn^. 
Tdrdh, written in Hebrew c. A.n. IISO, is the most systematic 
hook in all Jewish literature; with masterly skill he arranges 
the entire material of the Talmuti according to subjects, groups 
is in paragraphs, aiid succeeds in presenting it in such a way 
that the reader can at once find his bearings. Each section 
of the work opens with a clear statement of its subject, and 
then proceeds from the less to tlie more significant, from de- 
tails to essentials, all being set forth so lucidly that the solution 
of any particular problem can be found without delay. The 
hook 'met with the approbation which it so well merited— 
though it likewise encountered opposition, not only because of 
the bold and unprejudiced views advanced by the author in 
the theological sections, but also — what chiefly concerns us here 
— because of its very structure. Codification was a process that 
was never greatly favoured among the Jews, who were disposed 
to fear that it liiight supersede the study of the sources • and 
with regard to the work in question, consisting as it did of 
abstractly formulated paragraphs, and giving no references to 
sources or to the learned champions of particular views, they 
thought it well to guard gpecially against that danger. Never- 
theless, the admirable structure of the Mishne TOrdh, and the 
veneration in which its author was held, made it a standard 
work ; and the writings designed to elucidate or criticize it 
constitute a literary aggregate of vast proportions. 

Maimonides, in importing the entire material of the Talmud 
into his Code, took no account of the question whether it still 
ai>nlieri to the conditions of his age; thus, e.g., he dealt also 
with the laws regarding the Temple, the sacrifices, etc. About 
the year 1340, however, Jacob b. Asher drew up a new code, 
entitled Arbd'd 1'urlm, in which he passed by such subjects as 
were no longer of jiractical significance, and took cognizance of 
views and decisions that had meanwhile come to the front ; 
moreover, unlike Maimonides, he dealt with the various themes 
in treatises, not in separate paragraphs, and, in particular, he 
ga^■e expression to the views of scholars who had li\ed in the 
centuries immediately preceding. The Arbd'd y?irf jh came to 
be a work of the utmost significance in the following period. 
Joseph Qaro (1488-1576; cf. ^/iiMii. otiolf., and art. Qauo, .lusKrii) 
wrote a voluminous commentary to it, the Beth Yusi-f. from 
which he afterwards conqiiled an abstract entitled Shulhdn 
'Arukk. The Shuiluin 'Arukh follows the arrangement of the 
Arbd'd furlm, and, like that work, is divided into four parts. 
It deals only with the laws that had been in force from the 
fall of the Tem]>le, but it departs from its model and reverts 
to the method of Maimonides in giving rules only, short para- 
graphs, and in making no reference to its sources or to the 
advocates of particular views. In systematizing power and 
candour of thought, however, Joseph Qaro is signajl> inferior 
to Maimonides ; he was strongly influenced by the mystical 
tendency in the theology of the period of decadence. The 
Shulhdn 'Arukh was at first slighted, being regarded as a mere 
'book for the ignorant,' and its eventual fame was due to ite 
critii's, who ga\e expres.sion to their opposing views in com- 
mcntaiies and supi^lenunts to it. To begin with, Moses Isserles 
(1520-73; cf. JE\\. 678 ff.) published a series of supplementa 
to the BHh yynaef under the title of Darkhe. Mushv, and after- 
wards re-issued them as glosses to the ShitUiun 'Arukh ; here, 
on the basis of the Taimudic tradition then dominant in Gcr 
many, he frequently modified the decisions of Onro. It was in 
this supplemented form that the Shulhdn 'Arukh was thereafter 
regularly given to the publir, but it did not win full recognition 
till about 1650, by which date each of its four parts h.ad already 
formed the text' of celebrated commentaries ; these, however, 
were not of the nature of expositions, but were rather supple- 
ments, and often, indeed, in direct opposition to their text. 
Thus at length it gained an acknowledged position, yet never 
without encountering resiMtance ; and even in those circles of 
Jewish life where in principle it served as a norm there were 
countless departures from it in matterB of detail. On the 
literature of the compendia of., further, JE vii. 0:{5fT. 

(c) Reiqmnsee.—A combination of the two forms of Taimudic 
literature dealt with In the foregoing is found in the .SVi'r^M^A 
u-T*»hftlJi'''th ('Questions and Answern"), wliieh contain expla- 
nations, de-'isions of particular coses, vie. The literary inter- 
change of views regarding Taimudic problems began very early, 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



101 



and an active correspondence by letter had been carried on 
between the teachers of the Talumd in Palestine and those in 
Babylonia. In piioportion as the Jews became more and more 
dJBMrsed, correspondence became more and more necessary ; 
and from the time of the G^onim there was a large increase in 
the number of responses ; from that period itself, indeed, no 
fewer than fifteen more or less voluminous cnlle-'tions of re- 
sponses have been preserved. Nor, when the centre of Jewish 
life was transferred to Europe in the Middle Ages, did the 
interchange of opinions ditninish either in extent or in vigour. 
Thousands of opinions and legal pronouncements by certain 
eminent Rabbis of medieval times have been preserved, and 
were in the mass consulted as an important source of informa- 
tion. The number of works embodying such resjionses is so 
enormous that we must be content to mention only the most 
extensive and the most generally consulted : from the Middle 
Ages we have those of Meir b. Baruch of Rothenburg (1-220- 
93), Nahmanides (1194-c. 1270), and .Solomon b. Adreth (1235- 
1310), and that of Isaac b. Sheshet (1320-1408), all belonging 
to Spain ; from the dawn of the modern period, those of Israel 
Isserlein (t 1460) and Joseph Kolon (c. 1460), as also that of 
David ibn Abu Sirara (f c. 1570) ; and from more recent times 
those of Ezekiel Laudau (t 1793) and Moses Sofer (t 1S39). On 
the literature of the responses cf. also JE xi. 240fl. 

(d) Systematic UJorts.— Mention must be made, lastly, of that 
branch of the literature which deals wifli the problems of the 
Talmud in a methodical and systematic way — a mode of treat- 
ment but little regarded in "the earlier period, and, indeed, 
never strenuously applied till modern times. The earliest work 
aiming at systematic treatment is the Si^der Tanndlm w^'- 
Amiraim, dating from the 9th cent. ; the next works of the 
kind to appear were the M<bh6 hat-Talinudh of 'Samuel ibn 
Nagdila* (extant only in one part, whicli, however, is printed in 
all editions of the Talmud) and the Mafteah of Nissim b. Jacob, 
both of the 11th century. Of great importance in a methodo- 
logical respect, again, are the introductions which Maimonides 
issued as prolegomena to his commentary on the Misbna and 
several of its divisions. Later works worthy of mention are 
the Sifer hak-Erithuth of Samson of Chinon (c. 1300) and the 
ffillUchOth 'Otdm of Joshua ha-Levi of TIemsen (c. 1450); the 
latter has drawn around it numerous commentaries, and has 
often been reprinted. A new epoch in these aspects of Talmudic 
study was ushered in by S. J. L. Eapoport (1790-1867 ; cLJH 
X. 322 f.), who, in various Hebrew periodicals, as also in his 
dictionarv, the 'Erekh Millln, dealt with the problems of the 
Talmud in a scientific way, at once systematic and critical. 
The course marked out by Rapoport'has been followed by 
Z. Frankel (1801-75; ib. v. 4S3fF.) in his Varlhl ham-ilishml 
and his M'hho hd-Y'rushalmt, Abraham Geiger (1810-74 ; ib. v. 
584 ff.) in numerous treatises in his magazines, and I. H. Weiss 
(1815-1905 ; ib. xii. 49^ff.) in the historical work named below. 

3. Historical literature. — The post-Biblical his- 
toriography of tlie Je\vs took its rise as an element 
in the .sj'stematie treatment of the Talmud. The 
majority of the earlier works in this field were 
written cliiefly with the object of re-constructing 
the chain of tradition and of determining as 
accurately as possible the genealogies of eminent 
families and the chronicle of learned men. The 
geims of Jewish historical literature are found in 
the Talmud itself, and these furnished the pattern 
for the earliest developments. The chronology of 
the course of history from the Creation to the 
destruction of the Second Temple is given in the 
Seder 'Old/it, the nucleus of which was tlie work of 
Jose b. IJalafta (e. A.D. 160). An annalistic work, 
though dealing only withthe family of theexilarchs, 
is found in the Seder 'Olam ZiltCi, a genealogical 
register, which cannot have been drawn up before 
the 7th cent. A.D., and which assumes a disparaging 
attitude towards the exilarchs of the day. The 
biographical annals of scliolarship, again, are re- 
presented by the Seder Taunaim w^-AmCrahn (f. 
880), and the Epistle of Sherira (987), the latter 
being our principal source for the period between 
A.D. 500 and 1000. To the same class belongs also 
theSe/erhaq-Qabbald, composed in 1161 by Abraham 
b. David of Toledo, who is cliiefly concerned to 
exhibit the continuity of learned tradition down to 
his own times ; for, though he gives somewhat more 
detailed information regarding the Jews in Spain 
of the t%\ o preceding centuries, yet even there his 
manifest purpose is to trace the development of 
learning and recognized authority. The work of 
Abraliam Zakuto, who was for a time a professor 
of astronomy and chronology in Salamanca, but 
after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain settled 
in the Ea^t, was upon similar lines; his Sefcr 
YuMsin (1504) contains a detailed study of most 



of the Talmudic authorities, ami also a chronology 
brought down to his own day. For centuries this 
work was known only in a form containing a series 
of supplements, and was lirst made accessible in its 
original .shape in 1857. Jehiel Heilprin, of Minsk, 
wrote his Seder kad-Dordth (e. 1700) solely for the 
purpose of supplementing the data of Zakuto and 
bringing the Raljbinical genealogies down to his 
own times. 

A further incentive to the writing of history was 
provided by the peculiar fortunes of the Jewish 
people, and in particular by the sufi'erings and 
persecutions which they had to endure almost 
without intermission during the iMiddle Ages. 
These oppressions are chronicled in a vast number 
of fragmentary records, both in prose and in poetry, 
but there are very few connected and continuous 
accounts. We shall enumerate here only the more 
extensive compilations of this type still extant. 
A narrative of the persecutions which harassed the 
Jews, chiefly in the Rhine country, in connexion 
with the Crusades is given by A. Neubauer and M. 
Stern in their Uebraisehc Benchte iibcr die Judcn- 
vcrfolgungemvdhrend der Kreuzzik/e, Berlin, 1892. 
In those days of incessant persecution it was the 
practice to read {commemorare) in the synagogues 
the roll of those who had perished as martyrs; 
so-called memorial books were drawn up in the 
various communities, and were constantly added 
to. The most comprehensive of these books was 
published by S. Salfeld under the title Das Jf«rti/ro- 
loqium dcs Nilrnberger Memorbuches, Berlin, 1898. 
The earliest connected account of the persecutions 
V, as composed by the noted astronomer Judah ibn 
\'erga (t e. 1485), whose Shebhet Y'htldhah was 
supplemented by a younger relative named Solomon 
and another writer named Joseph, and published 
in its enlarged form. The best-known account of 
the Jewish martyrdoms in the Middle Ages is from 
the hand of the phj'sician Joseph hak-KohiJn, who 
lived in the 16th cent., and resided in various 
Italian cities ; his 'Emeq hab-Bdkhd describes with 
accuracy and graphic power the persecutions and 
banishments suffered by the Jews from the destruc- 
tion of the Second Temple. A strange combination 
of martyrology and the history of learning is found 
in Gedaliali ibn Yahya's Shahheleth haq-Qabbdla 
(c. 1550), which, although much of it was shown at 
an early date to be untrue and even incredible, 
enjoyed an extraordinary popularity, and was again 
and again issued in printed editions. 

The Jewish scholars of the Middle Ages had 
little aptitude for intelligently grasping or portray- 
ing their people's history. The Book of Josippon, 
a reproduction of tlie Latin Hegesippus (cf. ERE 
vii. 578'') in fluent Hebrew, composed in Italy in 
the 10th cent., stood long alone; by reason of its 
vivid and interesting style it has always been held 
in great esteem, and has been not only frequently 
edited in Hebrew, but also translated into many 
other languages. Even more rarelj', if possible, 
do we find medireval Jewish writers attempting to 
write profane histoiy in Hebrew. A work of later 
date deserving of mention is Joseph hak-Kohen's 
Chronicle of the Kings of France and Turkey, 
written in 1553, while, a few decades afterwards, 
David Gans (t 1613, in Prague) published, in his 
Scinah Ddwidh (Prague, 1592), records, first of 
Jewish, and then of universal, history from their 
respective beginnings to his own time ; this work 
appeared also in a Latin translation. In general, 
however, Jewish writers restricted themselves to 
the composition of popular narratives of particular 
episodes. 

It was not until comparatively recent times, 
indeed, that Jewish history \\as treated in a 
coherent and orderly maimer. In 1820 I. M. Jost 
began the publication of a history of the Jews in 



101 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



many volumes and in various forms, in which he 
was primarily poncerned to recount tlie political 
fortunes of his people, discussing their sociolo},'ical 
development in an ajipendix. Leopold Zunz, while 
he wrote nothing of the nature of a systematic 
work on .lewish liistorj', furnished iu his Znr 
Ge^chic/ite ii»il I.itnatiir (Hcrlin, 184.i) copious 
materials for all branches of that liistory, and 
suggestions as to the method of treating them. 
The best-known and most widely circulated work 
of this class, the Gcschirhle tier Jiulcii by H. Gractz 
(2nd ed., Leipzig, 1853-70), aims chietly at exhibit- 
ing the development of the religion and literature 
of the Jews in relation to their political position 
and the martyrdoms suffered by them, while A. 
Geiger's Dn-: Judcntum unri seine Geschirliic 
(Breslau, 1871) deals solely with their religious 
development. \. U. Weiss, in his Ileb. D6r D6r 
W Dvrshdiv {Vierms., 187 1-91), is likewise concerned 
only with the development of Judaism on its 
spiritual side. On the historical literature of. also 
M. Steinschneider, Die Gesc,h.-Lite.ratur der Juden, 
i. (Frankfort, 1905), and art. 'Historiography' in 
JE vi. 423 ff. 

An important source of information regarding 
the history of the Jews in the Middle Ages is 
found in the copious narratives of the numerous 
Jewish travellers and wayfarers. The most im- 
portant of such books of travel is the Massct 6th of 
Benjamin of Tudela, who (c. 1165) made a journey 
from Spain to the East and back, and noted down 
in a racy style 'all that he had seen or heard.' 
In the eiiition of the MansuCth prepared by A. 
Asher (London, 1840), Zunz has given a detailed 
account of the geographical literature of the Jews 
ii. •_>:!( Iff.). 

4. Systematic theology. — A great part of the 
Talmud and the Midrasliim is devoted to tlie 
religious and moral teachings of Judaism ; the 
Haggilda in particular is concerned mainly with 
the problems of theology — with dogmatic an<l 
ethical ide.as. No more than the Bible itself, 
however, does the Talmudic literature give a 
systematic presentation of theological doctrine. 
It was, in fact, only under the influence of Muslim 
theology that Jewish writers first essayed to deal 
.systematically with the doctrinal fabric of their 
religion, and to sup[)ort it by arguments. Their 
works were, to begin with, written in Arabic, but 
were soon all translated into Hebrew— largely 
through the efforts of the family of Ibn Tibbon. 
in Lunel— and in this form given to the Jewish 
world. The earliest speculative theologian among 
the Jews was Sa'adya Gaon, who, in his £mfin6tli 
v^-De'6th, written in 933, sought to bring the 
doctrinal teachings of Judaism into relation with 
contemporary pliilo.sophy. Bahya b. Joseph (first 
half of nth cent.; JE ii. 44(5 tf.) won an extra- 
ordinary success with his Huhhuth hal-L'bhdbhi'jtli , 
which treats chiefly of the moral teachings of 
Judaism ; the book was read far and wide, and 
was in its day jjerhaps the most popular work of 

5eneral philosophical literature among the Jews, 
udah Halevi (JE vii. 346 11'. ; see also art. Halevi), 
in his Knzftri, renounced philo.sophy altogether, 
and based theology exclusively upon the revealed 
faith and the experience of the Jewish people ; 
the work, by reason of its poetic mode of treatment 
in the style of the Platonic Dialogues, enjoyed a 
great vogue. By far the most eminent work in 
this field, however, is the MOreh A'hhu/chtm of 
Moses Maiiiionides, which, like his Miihne TOrah 
mentioned above, is distinguished at once for its 
rigorously systematic structure and for the keen- 
ness and independence of its thought. Although 
the book, w ith its free handling of Jewish doctrine, 
arou.sed hostility on many sides, and was even 
pnblicly bnmed at the instance of Jewish accusers, 



yet in influence it stands supreme ; all later study 
of Jewi.sh philosophy revolves around the MOreh, 
and the most outstanding Jewish thinkers, such as 
Spinoza, Moses Mendelssohn {qq.v.), and Solomon 
Niaimon, found in it the incentive to the con- 
struction of their own .systems. The Mi'irrh marks 
the culminating point of Jewish philosophical 
literature in the .Middle Ages. Of writers belong- 
ing to the time after Maiiiionides we mention only 
Levi ben Gersbon ([(/.".] c. 1350; JE viii. 26ff.), 
who, with his Millulmvlh Adhunai, was the first to 
make a stand against the authority of .\ristotle ; 
yas.lai Crescas (c. 1400; ib. iv. 35011'.), whose Or 
Adiwiini was drawn uiion by Spinoza as .in import - 
ant.source; and Joseph A 11 10 (c. 1415; ih. i. 324 ft'.), 
whose ' ikkdrtm was an enoniiously popular book. 

The period after Maimonides was, however, on 
the whole one of profound decadence in philo- 
sophical studies, which were, in fact, regarded as 
positively unlawful. The enlightened philosophy 
of Maimonides brought forth a counterpoise in the 
compo.sition of the Qabb.ila (see I^.\BB.\L.4), a 
peculiar medley of speculative ideas and curious 
fancies which was put forward as an esoteric 
doctrine of ancient origin, and sought to attach 
itself to the earliest authorities ; its repre.sentatives, 
indeed, did not scruple even to disseminate writings 
purporting to be the work of the most venerable 
personages, including Moses and the Patriarchs. 
The most notable book of such speculative secret 
doctrine was the Zuhdr, which was put into cir- 
culation c. 1300 by Moses de Leon, and passed 
off as the work of Simeon b. Yohai, a writer of the 
2nd cent. A.D. It takes the form of a commentary 
to the Pentateuch, but is interspersed with many 
systematic dissertations, which bear special names, 
and are perhaps later insertions. The Zuhdr was 
regarded with the utmost reverence ; it was de- 
signated a divine book, and was ranked higher 
than the Talmud or even the Bible itself ; its real 
origin was brought to light only in recent times. 
The name of Isaac Luria (t 1572) marks a further 
.stage in the development of the mystical literature. 
While Luria himself wrote nothing, his pupils pro- 
mulgated his teachings in a vast number of bio- 
graphies of their master, of commentaries to the 
Bible and the book of prayer, and of legal and 
ethical works. Likewise ^asldism (cf. EUE vii. 
006''), the last phase of Jewish mysticism, gave 
birth to countless works of the kind indicated 
above ; but, as all of them reproduce the ideas of 
their respective schools in a most unsystematic 
and incoherent way, it is very dillicult to describe 
them in terms of literary science. 

It was not until comparatively recent times that 
Jewish theology again assumed a rationalistic 
character. The turning-point was marked by 
Mendelssohn's J'erMsa/cOT (Berlin, 1783), and there- 
after, under the influence of Kant, Hegel, and 
Schelling, Jewish thought brought forth various 
systems, not one of which, however, can be said to 
have come into general favour. The modern 
Judaism of Western countries, in fact, has been 
powerfully influenced by the prevailing jihilosophy 
of the age. Of the latest works dealing with 
Jewish theology we would mention only K. 
Koliler, Grundris.i einer s>/stc»ia!isrhen Thcologie 
des Judcntuiiis, Leipzig, 1910, and S. Scliecliter, 
.Some Axpec/s of Rabbinic Thcolofii/, London, 1909. 

The ideas embedded in the theological literature 
were gdven to the wider Jewish public by means 
of popular writings, including not only the many 
widely circulated discourses (D'rti.ilitJtJt), but also 
numerous books of morals, which, it is true, laid 
more emphasis upon ethics than upon the specu- 
lative verilication of the faith. The most excellent 
of the books of morals produced in the Middle 
Ages ia the Se/er J^dsidhim of Jadah b. Samuel of 



I 



LITERATURE (Jewish) 



103 



Keaensburg (t 1217 ; JE vii. 356 flf.), a work of 
high ethical value, which, though not free from 
the superstition of its time, is pervaded by an 
admirable spirit of piety and an earnest desire to 
foster the mutual love of men. The books of 
morals were in many cases translated into tlie 
language of the couiitrj' in which they arose, and 
they form a large part of the Judteo-German, 
Judaeo-Spanish, and Judoeo-Arabio literatures. 
From the time of their composition they have had 
an enormous currency, and even at tlie present day 
the most widely read and systematic work on 
Judaism is the Ethik des Judentunis oi M. Lazarus 
(Frankfort, 1898, 1911). 

The theology of the Jews also involved the work 
of pointing out the lines of demarcation between 
their own religion and otlier creeds. The Jews, who 
from an early period formed but a sparse minority 
among the adherents of other faiths, had abundant 
occasion for such procedure. As might be ex- 
pected, all their writings whicli deal with theo- 
logical matters are concerned also with apologetics 
and polemics, but the systematic treatment of the 
questions at issue was a relatively late develop- 
ment. The works in this fiehl which were given 
to the public and still survive are hut few in 
number ; from fear of the dominant religion, in- 
deed, they were often suppressed, or at any rate 
not issued in printed form.' Jewish polemical 
works consist either of explanations of Biblical 
passages which had been interpreted in a Christo- 
logical or Muhammadan sense, or of sy.stematic 
treatises on the cardinal doctrines of Christianity 
or Islam. Of writings directed against Christianity 
the Tdl'dhOth Y'shit (on which see ERE vii. 552») 
was not used so much by Jews themselves as by 
Christian controversialists. Of Jewish polemical 
works that created a considerable stir, mention 
may be made of the NissdhCn of Lipman-Miihl- 
hausen, a resident of Prague (c. 1400), who in tliat 
work brought forward three hundred and forty-si.\ 
passages of the OT as telling against Christianity, 
and the Hizzuq Emuna, in which Isaac Troki, tlie 
Qaraite, made a systematic attack upon Christian 
doctrine (c. 1580). Both of these works were trans- 
lated into various languages, and many attempts 
were made to refute them by Christian theologians. 
On the polemical literature cf., further, JE x. 102 H'. 

A considerable amount of varied polemical 
activity was likewise directed against the Qaraites 
and other Jewish sects, but for the most part it 
finds expression incidentally in more general writ- 
ings, and we are unable to specify any monograph 
of importance in this smaller held. 

5. Liturgical and secular poetry. — The worship 
of God supplied the most powerfiil impulse to the 
post-Biblical development of Hebrew poetry, which, 
now termed piyyut, was revived with a view to en- 
riching the liturgy. All instruction in and lauda- 
tion of Jewish history and religion, which in the 
olden time had been the work of the preacher, fell, 
from c. .\.D. 600, to the function of the paitan. It 
w as under the influence of the Arabs that Jewish 
religious poetry sprang into life, and it was from 
them that it borrowed its artistic forms, but it 
required tirst of all to mould the Hebrew language 
to its designs — a process which, after long-sustained 
efforts, was at length brought to full realization in 
Spain. The most distinguished paitan of the 
Middle Ages was Eleazar b. Jacob haq-Qallr, who 
lived probably c. \.x>. 750 in Palestine; he com- 
posed over two hundred well-known poems, which 
nave found a place in the Jewish prayer-hooks of 

1 writings connected with the long controversy between 
Judaism and Christianity were collected by J. B. de Rossi in 
his Bibtioihfca Judaica Antichristiana, Parma, 1800, while 
Steinschneider has compiled a work entitled Polemische und 
apotogetische Literatur in arabischer Sprache zwfschen Mvs- 
limeTit Christen und Jitden, Leipzig, 1S77. 



nearly all countries, though we must note the 
exception of Spain, whicli had its own eminent 
figures in this held, and where iiiediieval Hebrew 
poetry attained its highest level between 104U and 
1140. The mo.st outstanding names here are those 
of Solomon ibn Gabirol, Moses and Abraham ibn 
Ezra, and Judah Halevi (qq.v.). Poems by these 
writers are found in all prayer-books, but such com- 
positions form only a small part of their poetic work; 
they also wrote voluminous ' divans,' which, it is 
true, soon fell into oblivion, and were rediscovered 
only in recent times ; a number of them still await 
publication. On the jnyyut cf. JE x. 65 ft'. 

While liturgical poetry oecujiied the place of 
supreme regard, other branches of the poetic art 
were by no means neglected. Of these the most 
widely cultivated was the didactic, which was 
turned to account in every department of know- 
ledge. The piyyiit itself sometimes assumed a 
didactic form ; but, in addition, we find disquisi- 
tions in verse relating to the calendar, philology, 
and Biblical study, the Halakha, the laws of 
religion, Talmudic jurisprudence, philosophy and 
polemics, historj', medicine, astronomy, etc., and 
poems in all these branches of study are extant 
in large numbers (cf. JE x. 98 f. ). Of more im- 
portance, as being more closely in touch with the 
poetic spirit, is Jewish lyric poetry. The religious 
poetry, once more, was to a great extent lyrical. 
But the earliest development of the lyric in the 
ordinary sense, i.e. the poetry that finds its themes 
in love, wine, war, patriotism, etc., took place in 
Spain, where the supreme master of this form was 
Moses ibn Ezra, where Judah Halevi won renown 
by his occasional poems and his poetical descrip- 
tions of nature, and where Abraham ibn Ezra and 
Judah al-yarizi (early 13th cent.) found recognition 
as keen satirists. The greatest Jewish secular 
poet, however, was Immanuel b. Solomon, of Rome 
— the contemporary, perhaps a personal friend, 
of Dante — who combined Oriental fantasy with 
Italian erotics, and gave expression to them in 
higidy polished Hebrew verse, writing, indeed, with 
such audacious abandon that the Shiil/idn'Arukh 
forbade the reading of the poet's MaJiberGih on the 
Sabbath, while even in our own time Graetz has 
accused him of having profaned the Hebrew muse. 
Another lyric writer worthy of mention is Israel 
Nagara (c. 1570), who, while he sings of God and 
of Israel, works upon a basis of love-songs and their 
melodies, and writes with such intensity of passion 
and such daring anthropomoridiism that he too in- 
curred the censure of the Rabbis. Moses 5ayyim 
Luzzatto (1707-47) deserves mention as a writer of 
great emotional power, and as the first who com- 
posed epic poetry in the Hebrew language. 

Jewish poetry, like Jewish literature in general, 
passed through a long period of barrenness, which 
lasted, indeed, until it was vitalized by the modern 
renascence of intellectual interests. The majority 
of the more distinguished poets of the pre.sent age 
are of Russian origin, the most eminent of all being 
Judah Loeb Gordon (1831-92; cf. JE vi. 47 f.), 
whose achievement, however, lies more in the field 
of satire than in that of the lyric. Of living poets 
special reference is due to H. N. Bialik, whose Ij'ric 
poetry has justly met with the highest apprecia- 
tion, and whose compositions have alreadj' been 
translated into nearly every European language. 
The last few decades have witnessed the rise of a 
copious Hebrew literature of general interest. 

LlTERATtTRE. — J. W. Etheridge, Jerusalem and Tiberias ; 
Sora and Cordova : ReliqujuH and Scholastic Learning of the 
Jews, London, 1S56 ; M. Steinschneider, Jeitnsh Literature 
from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Centura/, Eng. ti., do. 1867 ; 
D. Cassel, Lehrbuch der judischen Geschlcktaund Litteratur, 
Leipzig, 1879, ^Berlin, 1^^9t3, Eng. tr.. Manual of Jewish history 
and Literature, London, 188a; G. Karpeles, Geschichte der 
jiidischen Literatur, Berlin, 1880, '-1909, Ein Blick in die 
jiidische Literatur, Prague, 1S95, Jewish Literature and other 



104 



LITERATURE (Pahlavi) 



Bssai/s, Philndulphia and London, 1895 ; I. Abrahams, .1 Short 
Uistori/ 0/ Jewish iiftj-aluri!, London, 1006 ; S. Levy, 'Is there 
a Jewish Lltemlure'i" in JQR xv. [lOOSJ 6S3-sn:i; J. Jacobs, 
art. 'Bibliography' inJ'Siii. (10ii2| iui>-201 ; I. Davidson, art. 
' LiUsraturc, Hebrew,' ib. viii. [1904) 108-112. 

I. Elbogkn. 

LITERATURE (I'alilavi). — Pahlavi ('Par- 
thian,' i.e. ' lieniic, hehjiigiiig to heroic times'), or 
JlidiUe Persian, literiiture dates, so far as its con- 
tributions to religion are concerned, from the 8tli 
to the llth cent, of our era ; and its chief value in 
this regard is the ehiciilation of Zoroastrianism 
and Manichreanism {tpj.L'.), since it explains and 
supplements the data contained in the Avesta 
{q.v. ) anil adds materially to the scanty documents 
of Manicluean literature, besides giving frag- 
mentary renderings of Christian texts. The re- 
ligious material in Middle Persian falls into three 
categories : translations of Avesta texts, original 
compositions on Zoroastrian religions subjects, and 
Manieha'an and Christian literature. 

I. Translations of Avesta texts. — These trans- 
lations are combined witli running commentaries, 
somctin\cs of considerable length ; but they are 
handicapped by failing to understand the original, 
especially in its grammatical relations, since the 
iuliected type of tlie Avesta language had yielded, 
long before the comjiosition of any Middle Persian 
of which we have any indication, to the analytic 
type present in Pahlavi, whose grammar differs 
only in unimportant tletails from that of Modern 
Persian and other modern Indo-Iranian dialects. 
At the same time, the Middle Persian translations 
of the Avesta possess a real value and must be 
considered in any attempt to decipher the meaning 
of the Avesta original, particularly in view of the 
allusions, etc., preserved by Iranian tradition (see, 
further, art. Interpretation [Vedic and Avesta]). 
The principal Pahlavi translations are of tlie 
Yastui, Vtsjiarad, and FenrfioJdrf (most conveniently 
ed. F. Spiegel, Avesta, Vienna, 1853-58; L. H. 
Mills, The Ancient MS of the Yasna, with its 
Pahlavi Tr. {A.D. 132S), generally quoted as JS, 
Oxford, 1893, and Gathns, Leipzig, 1892-1913 [also 
with Sanskrit and Modern Persian versions, and 
Eng. tr.]; the Vendldad separately by D. P. 
Sanjana, Bombay, 1895, and H. Jamasp and M. 
M. Ganderia, do. 1907), NyCnjiins (ed. [also with 
S.anskrit, Persian, and tiuiarati versions, and Eng. 
tr.] M. N. Dhalla, New York, 1908),' Yait i. (ed. 
K. Salemanu, in Travanx dii 3' conqris des orientn- 
listes, Petrograd, 1879, ii. 493-592), vi., vii., xi. 
(ed. J. Darmesteter, Etudes orient., Paris, 1883, 
ii. 286-288, 292-294, 333-339; a complete ed. is 
promised by Dhalla), Niroyiqi-itun (ed. D. P. 
Sanjana, Bombay, 1894 ; tr. of Avesta portion by 
Darmesteter, Zend-Avesta, Paris, 1892-93, iii. 78- 
148, and SBE iv.- [1895] 304-368), Aoqeinadaeea 
(ed. and tr. W. Gei"er, Erl;ingen, 1878), and Ila/i'i.et 
Nask (ed. and tr. Iloshangji .laniaspji Asa and M. 
Haug, in their Ardd Vinlf, Bombay, 1872-74, 
also tr. Darmesteter, Zciid-Ai'esta, ii. (148-658, and 
SBE xxiii. [1883] 311-3-23). In addition, Pahlavi 
versions of Yt. ii., xiv., and xxiv., and of the 
Afrinnkans and Slh rocaks, are known to exist 
in MS.- 

J Translations of the Pahlavi version of Vs. xxx. and Ivii. have 
been made tiy H. Hiibschniann (Ein zorouftr. Lied, Munich, 
1872, and S»IA, pliil.-hiat. Classe, 1873, pp. 651-C04), ot xi. Ijy 
W. Ban^ (BuU. de i'Acad. roy. df Rfhjique, xviii. [l-iSoj '347-260), 
of xxviii.-xxxii. 1 by M. Hant; {Knnays on the Sacred Lantjuage, 
Writinr/s, and lielifjion of thf Parsie*, London, 1907, pp. ;l.^8- 
854), of ix. by M. B. Davar (Leipzig, 1904), and of Vend. i. by 
W. Gei(?er (Erlan^en, 1377), of i., xviii. -xx. by Haug {op. cit. 
35.'i-:«3), and of xvii. by P. Horn (ZD.MG xliii. [1889)32-41). 

-The autiienticity of the Vijirkart-i-Dinik (ed. Peshotan, 
Bombay, 1848) in too dubious to be considered here. The book, 
of wliich the writer Itnow^ only two co]>ies (in the Staatbihlio. 
Ihek, Munich, and in the library of A. V. W. Jackson, Columbia 
University), has been suppressed by the Parsis as unauthentic 
fcf. on it SVest, G/rP ii. 89 f. ; 0. Bartholomae, Indoft/rman. 
Fonchungen, xi. (lOM) 119-131, xii. 11901)02-101). 



2. Texts on Zoroastrian religious subjects. — 
Of these the longest .and most important is the 
Dhikarl (' .4cts of the Religion'), dating from the 
9th cent., and forming ' a large collection of infor- 
mation regarding the doctrines, customs, traditions, 
history, and literature of the Mazda-worshipping 
religion ' (E. W. West, GIrP ii. 91). The first two 
books have been lost, and the ninth ends abruptly. 
The Dlnhirt is the chief source for a knowledge 
of Zoroastrian philosophy in the Sasanid period, 
and it also contains much legendary material of 
value, such as the traditions concerning Zoroaster 
(tr. West, SBE xlvii. [1897] 3-130), while two 
books, viii.-ix. (tr. West, ib. xxxvii. [1892] 3-397), 
contain summaries of the A vesta, including accounts 
of those large portions which are no longer extant. 
The text, which is of exceptional difficulty, has 
been edited by D. M. Madan (Bombay, 1911), 
and, with English and Gujarati paraphrases, by 
Peshotan Behramji and Darab Peshotan Sanjana 
(do. 1874 tr. ; vol. xiii. carries the work through 
Dink. vii. 2). The Bundahiin treats of Zoroastrian 
cosmogony, cosmology, and eschatology. It is 
found in two recensions : a shorter (ed. and tr. F. 
Justi, Leipzig, 1868; tr. West, SBE v. [1880] 3- 
151) and a longer — the so-called Great, or Iranian, 
Bundahiin (ed. T. D. Anklesaria, Bombay, 1908 ; 
summary of contents in GIrP ii. 100-102; tr. of 
portions by Darmesteter, Zend-Avesta, i. 267 f., ii. 
305-322, 398-402; by .1. .L Modi, Asiatic Papers, 
Bombay, 1905, pp. 225-234 ; .and by E. Blochet, 
RHR xxxii. [1895] 9911'., 217 ?i.). 

Fjsohatology forms the general subject of the 
Arta-i-Vlraf Namak, which sets forth, in describ- 
ing the journey of Arta-i-Vlraf through heaven and 
hell, the future life of both righteous and wicked 
(ed. Hoshangji and Haug, Bombay, 1872-74). Here 
belong also the Bahman YaSt, which purports to 
be Ahura Mazda's revelation to Zoroaster of the 
future vicissitudes of the Iranian nation and 
religion (ed. K. A. Noshervan, Poona, 1899 ; tr. 
West, SBIC V. 191-235) ; and the Matan-l-Sah 
Vahram-i-Varjavand ('Coming of King Vahram- 
i-Varjavaud '), on the expulsion of the Arabs from 
Persia (ed. J.amaspji Minocheherji Jamasp-Asana, 
Pahlavi Texts cuiitained in the Codex UK, Bombay, 
1897-1913, p. 160 f.). 

The principal Pahlavi texts of a purely general 
religious character are the following : Mdtiqan-i- 
Haft AmSaspand('Vaxt\cvi\a,xsoi the seven Amesha 
Spentas'); StayiSn-i SihSOcak ('Praise of the 
Thirty Days'), which 'praises and invokes Auhar- 
mazd as the creator of each of the thirty sacred 
beings whose names are applied to the days of 
the month, and whose attributes are detailed and 
blessed in succession ' (AVest, GIrP ii. 108) ; Stdyiin- 
'i-Dr67i, a laudation of the dron, or sacred cake ; 
IIaqlqat-1-Pojhd (' Statement of the Days '), stating 
what actions are suitable on each of the days of 
the month ; J\ICitjqdn-i MdhFrartirt'in RCij Xiirddt, 
enumeiating the marvellous events that have 
occurred on the sixth day of the lirst month from 
the beginning to the end of the world (ed. Jamaspji, 
op. cit., pp. 102-108 ; tr. K. J. Jamasp Asanil, Cama 
Memorial Volume, Bombay, 1900, pp. 1'22-129) ; 
Mdtigdn-'i-Sih-Roj, containing material similar to 
t\i&Haqlqat, but in fuller detail (tr. D. P. Sanjana, 
Next-of-kin Marriages in old Inlii, London, 1888, 
P11. 105-116); Ddruk-l-XHrsandih, giving the com- 
ponents (contentment, perseverance, etc.) which 
are to be pounded with ' the pestle of reverence,' and 
taken daily at ilawn with the spoon of prayer (ed. 
Jamaspji, op. cit., j>. 154); Cim-i-Dron ('Meaning 
of the Sacred Cake '), dealing with the symbolism 
and con.secraticiii of the dron; Patct-i-Xut, a long 
formula for the confession of one's sins ; a number 
of Afrins ('Benedictions'); the ASirrdd, or mar- 
riage benediction ; Namax-i-Auharmazd, a lauda- 



LITERATURE (Pahlavi) 



lOS 



tion of Aliura Mazda (ed. and tr. E. Sachau, S WA W 
Ixvii. [1S71] 8-28-833; also tr. Darmesteter, Unc 
Priere judeo-ijcrsane, Paris, 1891) ; aiid Sum- 
stdyiSmh, a laudation of the name and attributes 
of Aliura Mazda. 

Second only to the D'lnkart as a source for 
knowledge of the religious philosophy of the 
Sasanid Zoroastrians (and, like the larger work, 
doubtless embodying a large amount of older 
material) is what may be termed rcsponsa litera- 
ture. This treats of all sorts of matters on which 
questious might arise. One of the most important 
works of this type is the Datistun-l-lHn'ik, the 
' Religious Opinions ' of JNIanuscihar, high priest of 
Pars and Kirman, in reply to the questions raised 
by Mitro-Xiuset and others (tr. West, .S'iJ£xviii. 
[1882] 3-276; tlie tirst 15 questions ed. D. P. 
Sanjana, Bombay, 1897) ; with this is connected 
a long and im|iortant Pahlavi Mivdyat (ed. liamanji 
NasarvanjiDliabhar, Bombay, 1913), wliile the same 
Manuseihar wrote, in 881, three epistles on ritual 
problems (ed. Dhabhar, Bombay, 1912, tr. West, 
SBE xmi. 279-366), his brother, Zat-Sparam, also 
being the author of a noteworthy religious treatise 
(tr. West, SBE v. 155-186, xlvii. 133-170, xxxvii. 
401-405). Of equal importance with the DCttistCin- 
i-Dln~ik is the Dlmi-l-Mamog-i-Xrat (' Opinions of 
the Spirit of Wisdom '), of which only a portion 
(ed. F. C. Andreas, Kiel, 1882) survives in Pahlavi, 
though the complete work is found in Pazand and 
Sanskrit (ed. West, Stuttgart, 1871, tr. West, SBE 
xxiv. [1885] 3-113). The PursUntka ('Questions ) 
are cliietiy answered by quotations from Avesta 
texts (the latter ed. and tr. Darmesteter, Zend- 
Avesta, iii. 53-77, SBE iv.^ 276-299), and another 
noteworthy collection of responsa (as yet unedited) 
is contained in the Pivdi/at-i-Hetnet-l ASavahUtdn . 
Here, too, belongs, roughly speaking, the Sayast- 
Id-Sdyaat (' Proppr and Improper '), whose contents 
' are of a very varied character, but sins and good 
works, precautions to avoid impurities, details of 
ceremonies and customs, the mystic signification 
of the Gatlias, and praise of the sacred beings are 
the principal subjects discussed' (West, GlrP ii. 
107 ; tr. West, SBE v. 239-406). In this category 
may also be ranked the Mdligun-i-Y6U-i-Fryd>w, 
narrating how tJie righteous Yosht answered the 
33 questions of the wizard Axt, «ho was thus 
destroyed, whereas he had previously killed all 
who had failed to solve his queries — the Iranian 
version of tlie story of the sphinx (ed. and tr, 
Hoshangji and Hang, in their .4rrfre Viraf ; also tr. 
A. Barth^lemy, Une Lfgende iranienne, Paris, 
1889). Controversial literature is represented \i\ 
the Mdtigdn-l gujastak Abalii, recounting the 
disputation between the heretic Abalis and Atilr- 
Farnbag (who began the compilation of the 
Dhikart) before the khalif al-jMamiin about 825 
(ed, and tr, Barthelemy, Paris, 1887). 

Yet another important tj'pe of Pahlavi literature 
is that of didactic admonitions. To this cla.ss be- 
long the Pand-namaki-ZaivituSt (not the Prophet, 
but probably the son of Aturpat-i-Maraspandan ; 
ed, and tr. P. B. Sanjana, in his Ganje-ShCnjagdn , 
Bombay, 1885); Andurj-l-Xusro-l-Kavdtdn, pur- 
porting to be the dying counsels of Chosroes to his 
people (ed, and tr, Sanjana, o}). cit. ; also tr, L. C. 
Casartelli, BOR i. [1887] 97-101, and Salemann, 
Melanges asiat. tires du bv!l. de I'mad. imp. des 
sciences de_ St. Petersboiirg, ix. [1887] 242-253) ; 
Andarj-l-Atilrpdt-i-Mdraspanddn, being the advice 
of Aturpat to his son Zaratusht (perhaps the person 
mentioned just above ; ed, and tr, Sanjana, op. cit. ; 
also tr, C. de Harlez, Mu-iion, vi. [1887] 66-78); 
Pand-ndmak-i- Vajorg-Mitro-i-Bfixtnkdn (ed. and 
tr. Sanjana, op. cit.) ; Five Dispositions for Priests 
and Ten Admonitions for Laymen (ed. Jamasjiji, 
op. cit. 129-131) ; Characteristics of a H'ippy Man 



(ed. Jamaspji, op. cit. 162-167) ; Vdcah aecand- 
l-Aturpdt-i-Mdraspanddn, the dying counsel of 
Aturpat (ed. Jamaspji, op. cit. 144-153) ; Andarj-i- 
AoSnarlddndk, Injunctions to Beh-dins, Admoni- 
tions to Mazda yasnians, and Sayings of Atur- 
Farnbag and Baxt-Afrit (the>e as yet unediteil). 

3. Manichxan and Christian literature. — Until 
couijiaratively recently it was. >upiiosed that Pahlavi 
literature was exclusively Zoroastrian ; but the 
discoveries made in Central Asia by M. A. Stein, 
A. Griinwedel, A. von Le Coq, and P. Pelliot have 
revealed a new province of extreme interest and 
value. The decipherment of the MSS found by 
these explorers has only begun. Here it must 
suffice to say that we already possess Pahlavi 
versions of somewhat extensive portions of 
Manichajan literature — a fact the more important 
since this religion had hitherto been known only 
from the writings of its enemies. The most im- 
portant collection of these texts thus far is that 
of F. W. K. Miiller (with German translation, 
' Handschriften-Reste in Estrangelo-Schrift aus 
Turfan,' ABAW, 1904; revised ed. C. Salemann, 
' Manichaeische Studien, i.,' M(m. de Vacad. imp. 
des sciences de St. Petersbottrg, viii. 10 [1908] ; 
Miiller, ' Doppelblatt aus einem manich. Hymnen- 
buch,'^£^ W, 1913). In the closely allied Soghdian 
dialect are numerous fragments ot a version of the 
NT, perhaps from the 9th or 10th cent. (Miiller, 
' NT Bruchstiicke in sog. Sprache,' SBA W, 1907, 
pp. 260-270; 'Sog. Texte, i.,' ABAIV, 1913; cf. 
L. H. Gray, ExpTxxv. [1913] 59-6!), 

4. Pazand and Sanskrit versions. — The special 
problems of the Pahlavi language cannot be dis- 
cussed here (see F. Spiegel, Gram, der Huzvdresch 
Sprache, Vienna, 1851 ; P. E. Sanjana, Gram, of ' 
the Pahlvi Lang., Bombay, 1871 ; C. de Harlez, 
Manuel dti Pehlevi, Paris, 1880 ; Darmesteter, 
Etudes iran., do. 1883; Salemann, ' Mittelpersisch,' 
GIrP I. i. [1901] 249-332; E. Blochet, Etudes de 
gram, pehlvie, Paris, n.d. [1905]) ; it must suffice 
to say tliat, \\ hen the Semitic words (or logogi-ams) 
in Pahlavi are ^^ritten in Iranian (e.g., iCihdn Mh, 

' king of kings,' instead of malkddn mcdkd), the 
language is termed Pazand (Spiegel, Gram, der 
Pi'irsUprnrhe, Leipzig, 1851). Many Pahlavi texts 
already listed are found in Pazand as well. The 
great majority of the religjous writings of this 
type, except the important Sikund gumdnlg-Vijdr 
('Doubt-dispelling Explanation'), probably dating 
from the latter part of the 9th cent. (ed. Hoshang 
and West, Bombay, 1887 ; tr. West, SBE xxiv. 
117-251), and the Jdmdsp-namak (ed, J. J. Modi, 
Bombay, 1903), have been edited by E. K. Antia 
{Pdzend Texts, Bombay, 1909). The Sikand gilm- 
dnig- Vijdr defends the doctrine of dualism, and in 
this connexion polemizes in very interesting fashion 
against Judaism, Christianity, Manicliisanism, 
and — neces-sarily quite guardedly — iluhammadan- 
ism (ef. artt. Jesus Christ ix Zohoastrianism, 
Jews in Zoro.^STEIANISM) ; the Jdrndsp-ndnrnk 
gives a summary of Iranian cosmology, history, 
and future fortunes of the Iranian religion. 
Among the texts edited by Antia are dods (bene- 
dictions recited on various occasions), nirangs 
(charms, often of much ethnographical interest ; 
for examples see Modi, Anthropological Papers, 
Bombay, 1911, pp, 4S, 125-129; K. E, Kanga, in 
Cama Mem, Vol., 142-145), patets (confessions); 
and of texts not included in this collection mention 
may be made of A Father instructing his Son and 
Andarj-l-dandk Mart. 

A number of Pahlavi (and Avesta) treatises are 
found in Sanskrit as well as in Pahlavi and Pazand 
versions. Many of these are given in editions of 
Pahlavi texts entrmerated above, but we must also 
note the ed, of Neriosanghs version of the Yasna 
by Spiegel (Leipzig, 1861) and tlie series of Collected 



106 



LITERATURE (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit) 



Saiiskrit Writiinjs uf the I'ltrsis, ed. S. D. Bhiirucha 
(Bombay, 190611'.). " 

5. Parsi-Persian literature.— Apait from Persian 
translations of Avcsta and Pahlavi texts, there is 
a lar^e amount oi Zoroastrian literature in Persian, 
which, for the most part, still awaits study. The 
Zartuilndmnli, dating from the 12tli cent., which 
is now accessible in original and translation by 
F. Rosenberg (Petrograd, 1904), gives a legendary 
biography of Zoroaster. Another work of im- 
portance is the Sad-dai- (' Hundred Gates'), which 
discusses a hundred subjecis of note in Zoroastrian- 
isni. Two of its three recensions liave been trans- 
lated into English (West, SISE x.\iv. 255-361) and 
Latin (T. Hyde, Hist, relujionis vcteTum Persarum, 
Oxford, 1700, pp. 433-4SS). A diHerent work, 
although along the same general lines, is the Sail- 
ilnrband-llIiiS (or Sad-ditr Bundahiin ; ed. B. N. 
Dhabhar, Bombay, 1909). Of worth for a study 
of the methods of Zoroastrian polemic against 
Muhammadanism is the ' Ulamd-i-Isldin, which is 
found in two recensions, the shorter of which has 
been edited and translated (ed. J. Mold, Fraijmens 
relatifs a la religion df, Zoroastre, Paris, 1829 ; tr. 
J. VuUers, Fi-itffmettte iiber die Religion dcs Zoro- 
aster, Bonn, 1S31 ; Blochet, Mlfli xxxvii. [1898] 
23-49). A i)articularly valuable collection of Parsi- 
Persian literature is contained in the MS Bu 29, 
belonging to the University of Bombay, the second 
volume of which has been edited by M. N. Unvala 
(not yet published) and analyzed by Rosenberg 
(Notices cie lift, pai-sie, Petrograd, 1909). It con- 
tains a large number of Rivdyats (religious tradi- 
tions) and letters on the most diver.se subjects 
— ritual, cosmogony, esehatology, etc. — the longer 
recension of the ' Ulamd-i-Isldm (pp. 72-80), the 
Ahkdm-i-Jam&sp (containing the horoscopes of 
Zoroaster, Moses, Alexander the Great, Christ, 
Mazdak, etc., as well as cosmology and esehato- 
logy, pp. 111-130), Vasf-i-Amidsfandan (attri- 
butes of the Amesha Spentas, pp. 164-192), Aghdz- 
i-ildstdn Mazdak va-Sdh NilSlrvdn ' Adil (on the 
heresiarch Mazdak, pp. 214-230), six parables con- 
nected with the Barlaam cycle (pp. 305-327 ; cf. art. 
JcsAPHAT, Barlaam .vnd), and questions asked of 
Zoroaster by Jamasp (pp. 417-422). Among other 
Parsi-Pensian texts, not yet edited, may be men- 
tioned a Discussion on Dualism between a Zoro- 
astrian i)riest and a Muharamadan, and the 
Saugand-ndmah, or ' Book of Oaths.' 

The interesting secular works in Pahlavi, Pazand, 
and Parsi-Persian, such as geographical matter, 
social rules, and tales, do not come within the 
sphere of religion. 

Finally, it may be mentioned that tran.slations 
of the Avesta have been made not only into 
Persian (for specimens see, in addition to works 
cited above, Uarmesteter, Etudes iran. ii. 262 ft'. ), 
but also, from the 15th cent., into Oujarati, the 
vemaciUar of the Indian Zoroastrians (see the 
Prolegomena to K. (Jeldner's ed. of the Avesta, 
Stuttgart, 1896, pp. vii-xi ; Darmesteter, Zend- 
Avesta, i. p. xlii) ; and the modern religious 
literature of the Parsis is eliiefly written either in 
Gujarati or in English. 

LiTSRATiBK. — F. Spiegel, Traditioiusllr lAt. der Parsen, 
Vienna, IsOU ; E. W. West. ' I'ahlari Lit.,' GlrP ii. (Strass- 
bure, 1904) 75-129; E. Wilhelm and K. B. Patel, Col. 0/ 
Books on Inlnian Lit. pubUshM in Europe and Imlia, Bombay, 
190X, and the former scholar's annual report on *Perser' in 
JahresberichU der Geschichtswisnenscha/t. 

Louis H. Gray. 
LITERATURE (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit). 
— I. The language.— The name 'Sanskrit' (saik- 
skfta, ' adorned,' ' perfected,' perfect passive parti- 
ciple of the verb sam-skar, 'to adorn,' from saih, 
' together,' and kar, ' to make ') is ordinarily applied 
to tue whole ancient and .sacred language of India. 
It belongs more properly to that dialect which may 



be dcUned more exactly as Classical Suu.^krit, the 
language which was treated by the Hindu gram- 
marians, Panini and his tollowers. For more than 
2000 years, until the present day, this language 
has led a more or less artilicial life. Like the 
Latin of the Middle Ages, it was, and is, even to- 
day, to a very marked extent, the means of com- 
munication and literary expression of the priestly, 
learned, and ciiltivateu classes. The more popular 
speech upon which it was based is known as bhdsd 
('speech,' from bhds, 'to speak'), of which there is 
no direct record. Sanskrit is distinguished moie 
obviously from the phonetically later, decayed 
dialects, Prakrit and Pali, the second of the two 
being the language of the canonical writings of the 
Southern Bndilhists. The relation of the Prakrit 
and Pali dialects to Sanskrit is closely analogous 
to the relation of the Romance languages to Latin. 
On the other hand, Sanskrit is distinguished, al- 
though nmch less sharply, from the oldest forms of 
Indian speech, preserved in the canonical and 
wholly religious literature of the Veda (Skr. veda, 
' knowledge,' from vid, ' to know,' connected with 
Gr. FoUa ' I know,' Lat. vidcre. Old Bulgarian 
vSdi, ' I know,' Gothic wait, ' I know,' Old High 
German wizzan. Germ, ivissen, Eng. wit, 'to know '). 
These forms of speech are in their turn by no 
means free from important dialectic, stylistic, and 
chronological difl'erences ; yet they are comprised 
under the name Vedic (or, less properly, Vedic San- 
skrit), which is thus distinguished from the language 
of Panini and its forerunner, the language of the 
Epics, wliose proper designation is Sanskrit, or 
Classical .Sanskrit. 

Vedic diliers from Sanskrit about as much as 
the Greek of Homer does from Attic Greek. The 
Vedic apparatus of grammatical forms is much 
richer and less definitely fixed than that of San- 
skrit. The latter has lost much of tlie wealth of 
form of the earlier language, without, as a rule, 
supplying the proper substitutes for the lost 
materials. Many case-forms and verbal forms of 
Vedic have disappeared in Sanskrit. The sub- 
junctive ig lo.st ; a single Sanskrit infinitive takes 
the place of about a <lozeu very interesting Vedic 
infinitives. Sanskrit also gave up the most im- 
portant heirloom which the Hindu language has 
handed down from pre-historie times, namely, the 
Vedic system of accentuation. In the last forty 
years the recorded Vedic accents have proved to 
oe of paramoiuit importance in the history of the 
Indo-European languages. Vedic, however, not- 
withstanding its somewhat unsettled wealth of 
fonu and its archaic character, is not a strictly 
popular dialect, but a more or less artificial ' liigu 
speech,' handed dow-n through generations by 
families of priestly singers. Thus ooth Vedic and 
Sanskrit, as is indeed the case more or less wherever 
a literature has sjjrung up, were in a sense caste 
lanf^uages, built upon popular idioms. The gxam- 
matical regulation of Sanskrit at the hands of 
P.anini and his followers, however, went beyond 
any academic attempts to re^ilate speech recorded 
elsewhere in the history of civilization. 

Older forms lying behind the Vedic language are 
reconstructed by the aid of Compiirative Philology. 
The Vedic people were inmiigrants to India ; they 
came from the great Iranian region on tlie other 
side of the Himalaya mountains. The comparison 
of Vedic (and to a less extent Sanskrit) with the 
oldest forms of Iranian speech, the language of 
the Avesta and the cuneiform in.scriptious 01 the 
Acha»menian Persian kings, yieMs the rather 
startling result that these languaijes are collec- 
tively mere dialects of one and the same older 
idiom. This is known as the Indolranian or 
Aryan (in the narrower, and proper, sense) lan- 
guage. The reconstructed .\iyan language difiers 



LITERATURE (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit) 



107 



less from the language of the Veda than Classical 
Sanskrit does from Prakrit and Pali. The lan- 
guage of the Iranian Avesta is so much like tliat 
of the Veda that entire passages of either literature 
may be converted into good specimens of the other 
by merely eliminating the special sound changes 
which each has evolved in tlie course of its separate 
existence. And the literary style, the metres, and 
above all the mythology of Veda and Avesta are 
closely enough allied to make the study of either 
to some extent directly dependent upon the other. 
In fact, the spiritual monuments of the Avesta as 
well as the stone monuments of the Achsemenian 
kings became intelligible cliiefly by the aid of the 
Vedic language. Since the revival of classical 
learning there has been no event of such import- 
ance in the history of culture as the discovery of 
Sanskrit in the latter part of the 18th century. 
There is at present no domain of historical or 
linguistic science untouched by the influence of 
Sanski'it studies. The study of this language 
gave access to the primitive Indo-European period, 
and originated the science of Comparative Phil- 
ology in all its bearings. Linguistic Science, 
Comparative Mythology, Science of Religion, 
Comparative Jurisprudence, and other important 
fields of historical and philosophical study either 
owe their very existence to tlie discovery of 
Sanskrit or were profoundly influenced by its 
study. 

2. The Veda as a whole. — The word 'Veda 'is 
the collective designation of the ancient sacred 
literature of India, or of indindual books belong- 
ing to that literature. At an unknown date, which 
is at the present time conventionally averaged up 
as 1500 B.C., but which may be considerably earlier, 
Aryan tribes (clans, ^-U, from which is derived the 
later name of the third, or agricultural, caste, 
Vaisya) began to ^nigrate from the Iranian high- 
lands on the north of the Hindu Kush mountains 
into the north-west of India, the plains of the river 
Indus and its tributaries. The non-Aryan abo- 
rigines, called Dasyu, in distinction from Arya 
(whence the word 'Aryan'), the name of the 
conquerors, were easUy subdued. The conquest 
was followed bj' gradual amalgamation of the 
fairer-skinned conquerors with the dark aborigines. 
The result was a not altogether primitive, semi- 
pastoral civilization, in which cities, kings, and 
priestly schools rivalled the interests connected with 
cattle-raising and agriculture. From the start we 
are confronted with a poetical literature, primitive 
on the whole, and more particularly exhibiting its 
crudeness when compared with Classical Sanskrit 
literature, yet lacking neither in refinement and 
beauty of thought nor in skill in the handling of 
language and metre. That this product was not 
entirely originated on Indian soil follows from the 
above-mentioned close connexion with the earliest 
forms of Persian literature. Vedic literature in 
its first intention is throughout religious. It in- 
cludes hymns, prayers, and sacerdotal formula- 
oflered by priests to the gods in behalf of lay 
sacrificers ; charms for ^\-itchcraft and medicine, 
manipul.ated by magicians and medicine-men ; ex- 
positions of the sacrifice, illustrated by legends, 
in the manner of the Jewish Talmud ; higher 
speculations, philosophic, psycho-physical, cosmic, 
and theosophic, gradually growing up in connexion 
with and out of the simpler beliefs; and, finally, 
rules for conduct in everyday life, at home and 
abroad. This is the Veda as a whole. 

At the base of this entire literature of more than 
100 books, not all of which have as yet been un- 
earthed or published, lie four varieties of metrical 
and formulaic compositions known as the four 
Vedas in the narrower sense. These are the 
Rigveda, the Yajurveda, the Samaveda, and the 



Atliarvaveda. These four names come from a 
somewhat later time ; they do not coincide exactly 
with the earlier names, nor do they correspond 
completely with the contents of the texts them- 
selves. The earlier names are ychah, 'stanzas of 
praise,' yajUmsi, ' liturgical stanzas and formula',' 
sdmdni, ' melodies,' and atharvahgirasah, ' bless- 
ings and curses.' The collection which goes by the 
name of Rig%-eda contains not only ' stanzas of 
praise,' but also 'blessings and curses,' as well as 
most of the stanzas which form the basis of the 
sdman-meloiMes of the Samaveda. The Atharva- 
veda contains rchah and yajumsi, as well as bless- 
ings and curses. The Yajurveda also contains 
many blessings in addition to its main topic, the 
liturgy. The Samaveda is merely a collection of 
a certain kind of ' stanzas of praise ' which are 
derived with some variants and additions from the 
Rigveda, but are here set to music which is 
indicated by musical notations. 

3. The Rigveda. — The Rigveda is on the whole 
the most important as well as the oldest of the four 
collections. A little over 1000 hymns, equalling in 
bulk the survi\'ing poems of Homer, are arranged 
in ten books, called nuindalas, or ' circles.' Six 
of them (ii.-vii.), the so-called 'family books,' 
form the nucleus of the collection. Each of these 
is the work of a difl'erent rsi, ' seer,' or rather 
a famUy of poets, traditionally descended from 
such a fsi, as may be gathered from certain 
statements in the hjnnns themselves. The eighth 
book and the first fifty hjTiins of the first book, be- 
longing to the family of Kanva, are often arranged 
strophically in groups of two or three stanzas. 
These form tlie bulk of those stanzas which are 
sung to melodies in the Samaveda. The hymns 
of the ninth book are addressed directly to the 
deified plant soiim, and the liquor pressed from 
it, in order that it may be sacrificed to the gods. 
The remainder of the first book and the entire 
tenth book ai-e more miscellaneous in character 
and problematic as to arrangement. On the whole 
they are of later origin and from a difl'erent sphere. 
Their themes are partly foreign to the narrower 
purpose of the rchah ; witchcraft hjiuns of a more 
popular character and theosophic hymns appear 
in considerable numbers. The poems of the former 
class reappear, usually with variants, in the 
Atliarvaveda. 

On the whole the Rigveda is a collection of 
priestly hymns addressed to the gods of the Vedic 
jiantheon (see Vedic Religion) during sacrifice. 
This sacrifice consisted of oblations of intoxicating 
soma, pressed from the 'mountain-born' soma- 
plant, which reappears in the Zoroastrian Avesta 
under the name haoma (l-v.), and was therefore 
the sacred sacrificial fluid of the Indo-Iranians, or 
Aiyans. In addition, melted butter (ghrta, or 
ghl) was poured into the fire, personified as the 
god Agni (Lat. ignis), who performs the function 
of messenger of the gods (Ahgiras). The ritual of 
the Veda is to a considerable extent prehistoric, 
and advanced in character — by no means as simple 
as was once supposed. But it is much less elabor- 
ate than that of the Yajurveda and the Brahmanas 
(see below). The chief interest of the Rigveda 
lies in the gods themselves and in the myths and 
legends narrated or alluded to in the course of 
their invocation. The mythology represents an 
earlier, clearer sta^e of thought than is to he found 
in any other parallel literature. Above all, it is 
sufficiently primitive in conception to show clearly 
the processes of personification by which the 
phenomena of nature developed into gods (anthro- 
pomorphosis). The original nature of the Vedic 
gods, however, is not always cleai, not as clear as 
was once confidently assumed tn be the case. The 
analysis of their character is a chapter of Vedic 



108 



LITERATURE (Vedio and Classical Sanskrit) 



philology as difficult as it is impoitaut. In any 
case enough is known to jvistify the statement that 
the keynote of KigveUic thought is Uie nature 
myth. 

4. The Yajurveda. — Tlie Yajnrveda represents 
the exceeding growth of ritualism or sacerdotalism. 
Its yaiiii'ii.^, 'liturgical stanza-s and formuhe,' arc 
in tlic main, thongli not wholly, of a later time. 
They are partly metrical and partly prose. The 
materials of the Kigveda are freely aiiaptcd, with 
secondary changes of expre.'ssion, ami ^vithout 
regard to the original purpose and order of their 
composition. The main object is no longer devo- 
tion to tlie gods themselves ; the sacritice has 
become the centre of thought : its mystic power is 
conceived to be a thing per sc, and its every detail 
has swollen into all-importance. A crowd ot priests 
(seventeen is the largest number) conduct a vast, 
complicated, and painstaking ceremonial, full of 
.symliolic meaning even in its smallest minutise. 
trom the moment when the priests seat themselves 
on the sacrificial ground, strewn with sacred grass, 
and proceed to mark out the altars [vcdi) on whicli 
the sacred tires are built eveiy act has its stanza or 
formula, and every utensU is blessed with its own 
fitting blessing. Every flaw is elaborately expiated. 
These formulae are conceived no longer as prayers 
that maj-, or may not, succeed, but as inherently 
coercive magic. If the priest chants a formula for 
rain while pouring some sacrificial lluid, rain shall 
and must come ; if he makes an oblation accom- 
panied by the curse of an enemy, that enemy is 
surely destroyed. In fact, and in brief, the Yajur- 
veda means the deification of the sacrifice in' its 
every detaU^f act and word. 

5. The Samaveda. — The Sdmaveda is the least 
clear of all the Vedas as regards its purpose and 
origin. Its stanzas, or rather gi'oups of stanz;is, 
are known as samCmi, 'melodies.' The sdman- 
stanzas are preserved in three forms: (1) in the 
Rigveda, as ordinary poeti-y, accented in the same 
way as other Vedic poetry ; (2) in the Sfiuiaveda 
itself in a form called drchikn, a kind of libretto 
composed of a special collection of stanzas, most of 
which, though not all, occur also in the Rigveda 
(see above) ; here also there is a system of ac- 
cents, peculiar in its notation, but apparently with 
reference to the unsung saiiuins ; (3) in the thiid 
«a);i;rn-version, the gdnas, or song-books, we find 
the real sung sdnmns ; liere not only the text but 
the musical notes are fjiven. Still this is not yet 
a complete sdman. hi the middle of the sving 
stanzas exclamatory syllables are interspersed— the 
so-called stubluis, such as om, httu, hai, hoyi, or 
him ; and at the end of the stanzas certain con- 
cluding syllables — the so-called nidhanas, such as 
ett/ta, d, iih, and sat. The Samaveda is devoted 
chiefly to the worship of Indra, who is a blustering, 
braggadocio god and who has to befuddle himself 
with S07na in order to slay demons. It seems likely, 
therefore, that the sdmaiis are the civilized version 
of savage shamanism (the resemblance between 
the two words, however, is accidental), an attempt 
to influence the natural order of things by shouts 
and exhortations. It is well understood that the 
Brahmans were in the habit of blending their own 
hieratic practices and conceptions with the prac- 
tices which they found among the people. The 
iaHi'^n-melodies and the exclamations interspersed 
among the words of the text may therefore be 
the substitute for the self-exeiting shouts of the 
shaman priests of an earlier time. 

6. The Atharvaveda.— The oldest name of the 
Atharvaveda is athHrvdiujirnsith, a (uij>i)ound 
formed of the names of two semi-mythic families 
of priests, the Atharvans and Angirases. At a 
very early time the former terra was regarded as 
sj'nonymous with ' holy charms,' or ' blessings,' the 



laltcT with 'witchcraft charms,' or 'curses.' In 
addition to this name, and the more conventional 
name Atharvaveda, there are two other names, 
practically restricted to the ritual texts of tliis 
Veda : bhrqvniiqi rns'ih, that is, ' Bhrgus and 
Aiigirascs,' in which the Bhrgus, another ancient 
family of fire - priests, take I lie place of the 
Atharvans; and Brnhmncedn, probably 'Veda of 
the Brahma, or holy religion in general.' As re- 
gards the latter muue, it must be remembered that 
the Atharvaveda contains a large number of 
theosophic hymns which deal with the hriihina in 
the sense of the Neo-Platonic Xoyos, as a kind of 
pantheistic personification of holy thought and 
its pious utterance. The Atharvaveda is a col- 
lection of 730 hymns, containing some GOOO 
stftnzas. 

7. The Vedic scnools. — The redactions or col- 
lections of these lour Vcdas are known as Saihhitds ; 
each of them is handed down in various schools, 
branches, or recerisions, called charana, idkhd, 
or bhcda, the term sdkhd, or ' branch,' being the 
most familiar of the three. These ' branches ' 
represent a given A'eda in forms differing not a 
little from one another. The school differences 
of the Rigveda are unimportant, except as they 
extend also to the Brahmanas and Sutras of that 
Veda (see below). Tliere are two Samaveda 
redactions, those of the schools of the Kauthumas 
and the Ranayanivas. A very persistent tradition 
ascribes nine schools to the Atharvaveda ; the 
Saihhitas of two of these, the Saunakij-as and 
Paippaladas, are published, the latter in an inter- 
esting chromo-photographic reproduction of the 
unique manuscript of that text preserved in 
the library of the University of Tiibingen. The 
Yajurveda, especially, is handed down in recen- 
sions that ditier from one another very widelj'. 
There is in the first place the broad division into 
White Yajurveda and Black Yajurveda. The 
most important diflercnce between these two is 
that the Black Yajurveda schools intermingle 
their stanzas and formulte with the prose exposi- 
tion of tlie Brahmana (see below), whereas the 
White Yajurveda schools present their Brahmana 
in separate works. The White Yajtirveda belongs 
to the school of the Vajasaneyins, and is sub- 
divided Into the Madhyaiudina and ICanva re- 
censions. The important schools of the Black 
Yajurveda are the Taittiriyas, MaitrSyaniyas, 
Kathas, and Kapisthalas. Sometimes these schools 
have definite geographical locations. For example, 
the Kathas and Kapisthalas were located, at the 
time when the Greeks became acquainted with 
India, in the Panjab and in Kaslimir. The Maitra- 
yaniyas appear at one time to have occupied the 
region around the lower course of the river Nar- 
mada ; the Taittiriyas, at least in modern times, 
are at home In the south of India, the Deccan. 

8. The Brahmanas. — The poetic stanzas and the 
ritualistic formuke of the Vedas collectively go by 
the name of mantra, ' pious utterance,' or ' hymn.' 
These were followed at a later period by a very 
diflerent literary type, namely, the theological 
treatises called brdhtnana, the Hindu analogon to 
the Hebrew Talmud. "The Brahmanas are exeget- 
ical and commentative, bulky expositions of the 
sacrificial ceremonial, describing its minute details, 
discussing its value or reason, speculating upon its 
origin, and illu.^i rating its potency by ancient 
legends. Apart from the light which these texts 
throw upon the sacerdotalism of ancient India, 
they are important because they are written in 
connected prose — the earliest in the entire domain 
of Indo-European speech. They are especially im- 
portant for syntiix : in this respect they reiiresent 
the oldest Indian stage even better than the Rig- 
veda, owing to the restrictions imposed upon the 



LITERATURE (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit) 



109 



latter by its poetic form. The Brahnianas also 
were composed in schools, or recensions : the 
various Brahmana recensions of one and the same 
Veda difl'er at times even more widely than tlie 
Samhitas of the mantras. Tims the Kigveda has 
two Brahmanas, the Aitareya and the Kaumtakin, 
or SankJwyana. The Brahmana matter of the 
Black Yajurvedas is given togetlier with the 
mantras of that class (see above) ; on the other 
hand, the White Yajurveda treats its Brahmana 
matter separately, and^ with extraordinary full- 
ness, in the famous Hatapatha Brahmana, the 
' Bralmiana of a Hundred Paths,' so called because 
it consists of a hundred lectures. Next to the 
Rigveda and Atharvaveda Samhitas this work 
is the most important production in the whole 
range of Vedic literature. Two Brahnianas belong- 
ing to independent recensions of the Samaveda 
have been preserved entire, that of the Tandius, 
usually designated as Panchaviiida Brahmana, and 
that of the Talavakaras or Jaiminiyas. To the 
Atharvaveda is attached the verj^ late and second- 
ary Gopatha Brahmana ; its contents harmonize so 
little with the spirit of the Atharvan hymns that 
it seems likely to liave been produced in imitation 
of the ' school ' conditions in the other A'edas. 

?i. The Aranyakas and Upanisads. — A later de- 
opment of the Brahmanas is the Aranyakas, 
or ' Forest Treatises.' Tlieir later character is in- 
dicated both by the position which they occupy at 
the end of the Brahmanas and by their partly theo- 
sophical character. The name ' Forest Treatise ' 
is not altogether clear. Either these works were 
recited by hermits living in the forest, or, owing 
to the superior sanctity of their contents, they 
>\ere taught by teacher to pupil in the solitude of 
the forest rather than in the profaner atnipsphere of 
the town or village. The two important Aranyakas 
are the Aitareya and tlie Taitfirlya, belonging to 
the two Vedic_s«hools of that name. The chief 
interest of the Aranyakas is that they form in con- 
tents and tone a transition to the Uijanisads, the 
older of which are either embedded in Uiem or form 
their concluding portions (see artt. Arany.\ka.s, 
Up.vnisads). 

10. The Srauta-Siitras, or manuals of the Vedic 
ritual. — Both mantra and brahmana are regarded 
as revealed (iriiti, or 'revelation'); the rest of 
Vedic literature as tradition (smrti), derived from 
holy men of old. This literature h:is a character- 
istic style of its own, being handed down in the 
fonn of brief rules, or sutra-s, whence it is fami- 
liarly known as Sutra literature, or the Sutras. 
They are, in the main, of tliree classes, each of 
which is, again, associated with a particular Vedic 
school, reaching back, as a rule, to the school dLs- 
tinctions of the Saiidiitas and ^he Brahmanas. 
The first class of Sutras are the Srauta or Kalpa 
Sutras, which may be translated ' Sutras of the 
Vedic Ritual.' T'hey are brief mnemonic rule- 
books conipUed, with the help of oral tradition, 
from the Bralimanas. They are technical guides 
to the Vedic sacrifice, distinguished from the 
diffusive Brahmanas, where the ritual acts are in- 
terrupted by explanation and illustrative legend. 
To the Rigveda belong two Srauta Sutras, corre- 
sponding to its two Brahmana schools : the Aivald- 
yana to the Aitareya Brahmana, and the Sahkhd- 
yana or Kausltakin to the Brahmana of the same 
ijame. To the White Yajurveda belongs the 
Srauta Sutra of Katyayana, closely adhering to 
the &atapatha Brahmana. There are no fewer 
than six Srauta Sutras belonging to the Black 
Yajurveda, but only three of them are published, 
or in the course of publication, those of Apastamba 
and Baudliayana, belonging to the schools of the 
Taittiriyas, and the ^Ianava, belonging to the 
school of the Maitrayaiiij'as. The Samaveda has 



two Srautas, those of Latyayana and Urahyayana, 
belonging respectively to its two schools of the 
Kauthumas and the Rfiuaj'aniyas ; the Atharva- 
veda has the late and inferior Vaitana. 

11. The Grhya Sutras, or ' House Books.' — 
Of decidedly greater, indeed of univer.sal, interest 
is the second class of Sutras, the Grhya Sutras, or 
' House Books.' These are treatises on home life, 
which deal systematically and piously with the 
events in the everyday existence of the individual 
and his family. Though composed at a compara- 
tively late \edic period, they contain practices 
and praj-ers of great antic|uity, and supplement 
most efi'ectively the contents of the Atharvaveda. 
From the moment of birth, indeed from the time 
of conception, to the time when the body is con- 
signed to the funeral pyre, they exhibit the ordi- 
nary plain Hindu in the aspect of a devout and 
\drtuous adherent of the gods. All the important 
events of life are sacramental, decked out in prac- 
tices often of great charm ami usually full of sym- 
bolic meaning. For ethnology and the history of 
human ideas the ' House Books ' are of unexcelled 
importance. These manuals are also distributed 
among the four A'edas and their schools, each of 
which is theoretically entitled to one of them. 
More than a dozen are now known to scholars. 
The Rigveda has the Gfhyn Sutras of its two 
schools, that of Asval.aj'ana and ^ahkhayana ; the 
White Yajurveda that of Paraskara ; the Black 
Yajurveda a large number, as those of the 
Apastamba, Baudhayana, Hiraiiyake.sin, Manava, 
and Katha schools ; the Samaveda has the Go- 
bhila, Khadira, and Jaiminiya. To the Atharva- 
veda belongs the unique Kaijiika Sutra, which, 
in addition to the domestic ritual, deals with the 
magical and medicinal practices that specially 
belong to that Veda. 

12. The Dharma Sutras, or ' Law Books.'— 
The thinl class of Sutras are the Dharma Siitras, 
or 'Law Books.' They also deal to some extent 
with the customs of everyday life, but are engaged 
for the most part with secular and religious law. 
In one department of law, that of expiation, these 
Sutras root in the Vedic hymns themselves. A 
considerable number of expiatory hymns and 
stanzas, clearly of the same stock as the law of 
exiiiation, are found in Vedic texts, especially the 
Atharvaveda and the Taitfirlya Aratiyaka. The 
Law Sutras, in their turn al>-o, are either dii-ectly 
attached to the body of canonical writings of a 
certain Vedic school or are shown by inner criteria 
to have originated within such a school. The 
oldest Law Sutras are those of the Apastamba and 
Baudhayana, belonging to the Black Yajurveda 
schools of that name ; the Gautama belonging to 
the Samaveda ; the Visnu belonging to the Katha 
school of the ISlack Yajurveda ; and the Vilsistha 
of less certain associations. The earliest metrical 
law-books, the so-called Dharmasastras, written 
in Classical Sanskrit, seem also to be based on lost 
Sutra collections of definite Vedic schools. The 
most famous of these, the Manava. Dharmasdstra, 
or ' Law Book of Manu' (see Law [Hindu]), may be 
founded upon a lost Dharma SUtra of the Manava 
or Maitrayaniya school of the Black Yajurveda, 
while the briefer ' Law Book of Yajiiavaikya ' is 
unmistakably connected with some school of the 
White Yajurveda. 

English readers may obtain ready insiglit into the contents 
of Vedic; literature in all its important aspects tUrouudi the 
scries of translations edited by Max Miillcr in SBE (O.\ford, 
ls79ff.). P.irts of the Ri^'veda are translated by Miiller him- 
self (vol. xxxii.) and H. Uldenberc (vol. xlvi.) ; the Atharva- 
veda by M. Bloomfield (vol. xUi.) ; tlie .'^utapntha Brdhmar^a by 
J. Eggelinj? (vols. xii. xxvi. xli. xliii. and xliv.) ; seven of the 
(jfhya .^utra^ by Oldenbert; (vols. xxix. and xxx.) ; the older 
Vharnia SCdras by G. Buhler and J. Jolly (vols. ii. di. and 
xiv.) ; and the Law Book of Manu by Biihler (vol. x\\ .). 

13. Vedic and Sanskrit literature contrasted.— 



no 



LITERATURE (Vedio and Classical Sanskrit) 



The form and style of Sanskrit literature dilier 
a good deal from those of tlio Vedas. As re^iirds 
the l.iiignage, it is to be noted that prose in Vedic 
times was developed to a tolerably hitrli pitch in 
the Yajurvedas, Bralinianas, and Upanisads ; in 
Sanskrit, apart from the strained scientific lan- 
guage {su/ra) of phi]osoi)hy or grammar, or the 
aitiuse and inorganic stylo of the commentators, 
prose is rare. It presents itself in genuine litera- 
ture only in fables, fairy tales, romances, and 
partly in the drama. Nor ha-; this jirose improved 
in literary and stylistic quality, as compared with 
the earlier variety. On the contrary, it has be- 
come more ami more clumsy and hobbling, full of 
long awkward compounds, gerunds, constructions 
in the passive voice where the active would do, 
and other artificialities. As regards the poetic 
medium of Classical Sanskrit, it also difl'ers from 
the Veda. The bulk of Sanskrit poetry, especially 
the Epic, is composed in the iloka metre, a de- 
velopment of the Vedic anustiihh metre of four 
octosyllabic lines of essentially iambic cadence. 
But numerous other metres, usually built up 
on Vedic prototypes, have become steadily more 
elaborate and strict than their old originals ; in 
the main they have also become more artistic and 
beautiful. 

Notwithstanding the wonderfully unbroken 
continuity o! Hindu writings, the spirit of San- 
skrit literature also differs greatly from the Vedic. 
The chief distinction between the two periods is 
tliat the Veda is essentially a religious collection, 
whereas Sanskrit literature is, with rare excep- 
tions, such as the Bhagavad-Gita, or the metrical 
Law Sastras, profane. In the Veda lyric poetry 
as well as legendary and expository prose are in 
the service of prayer and sacrifice ; in Sanskrit 
epic, lyric, didactic, and dramatic forms are all 
for the purpose of literary delectation and fcsthetic 
or moral instruction. In Sanskrit literature, 
moreover, with the exception of the grand com- 
pilations of the Mahcihharata and the Puranas, the 
authors are generally definite persons, more or 
less well-known, whereas the Vedic writings go 
back to families of poets o;: schools of religious 
learning, the individual authors being almost in- 
variably submerged. 

14. Epic literature. — Sanskrit literature may 
be divided into epic, lyric, dramatic, didactic, 
narrative, and scientific. In epic poetry there is 
the important distinction between tne freer, narra- 
tive epic called itihasa (q.v.), 'story,' or pHrdnn, 
' ancient legend,' and the artistic or artificial epic 
called ki'ivi/a, 'poetic product.' The great epic, 
the Mahabhdrata, is by far the most important 
representative of the former kind. Of somewhat 
similar free stvle are the eighteen Puranas (sec 
below), of mucli later date than the Mahdbhdrata. 
The beginnings of the artistic style are seen in 
the other great Hindu epic, the liamSyana. But 
the finished style of tlie Kdvua is not evolved until 
the time of Kalidasa about the 6th cent. A.D. 

The MahdhJmrata, or ' Great Bharata Story,' the 
greatest of Hindu epics, is a huge authorless com- 
pilation for which tradition has devised the name 
Vyasa, ' Redaction,' as author. It is written for 
the most tiart in the epic metre, the iloka, and 
contains altogether about 1C>0,000 stanzas of four 
lines each, about eight times the length of the 
Homeric poems. 

The kernel story of the epic, whicli Is interrupted by many 
epivKfes, or interwoven narratives, tells how the ancient and 
wicked dynaaty of the Kums was overthrown by the pious 
Parich.Maa and Pandufl. At a ^ainblin|f-inat«h depicted in the 
most vivid l.injjiiage, Duryotlhana, the king of the Kui-us, 
cheats the Pandu princes, robs them of their kingdom, .and 
exiles them for tnirteen years. Hut this is only the preparation 
for the final war, or eighteen days' battle, between the opposing 
royal houses and their nltic. In ttiis the Kurus are flnally 
Overthrown and destroyed. 



The licroic stor}" is not only interrnptcd by episodes, but is in 
general made the pivot around which philosophical (religious) 
and ellii-al discussions of great length revolve. Thus the work 
li.aa assumed the place in Hindu literature of an encyclopiedia 
of moral and religious instruction. 

A Bharata and a Mnhdbhdrnta are mentioned as 
early as the ' House-Books ' (see above) of the later 
N'eilic literature, but all dates a.ssigned to the 
original simpler ej)ic which preceded the eiicyclo- 
]iaeaic poems in its finished form are mere guesses, 
except that it obtained its essentially present 
form in the 4th or 5th cent, of our era. 

Among the episodes of the Mn/inh/idrnta, the 
BhagavadGUa, 'The Song of the Divine One,' or 
' Soiig Celestial,' is pre-eminent. It is in some 
respects the most interesting and important book 
in post-Vedic literature. 

When the rival armies of the Kurus and the P.-indus are drawn 
up against eacn other, Arjuna, the leader of the IVinduK, stoutest 
of heroes, hesitates to ert.-r ui)on the slaughter. Then Kr^na, 
one of the incarnations of Visnu, acting as Arjuna's charioteer, 
silences his scruples by poiriting out that action, which is the 
P'Tformance of duty, is the obligation of man in the world, 
although, finally, abslr.octod devotion to the Supreme .Spirit 
alone leads to salvation. The poem is conceited in the spint of 
eclectic Ilindu theosophy or philosophy. M the bottom is the 
.Sankhya doctrine of dual matter and spirit, but this is tinged 
with monistic Vedanlist pantheism (see Buagav,\d-GTtA). 

It is not likely that the poem formed part of the 
original ' Bharata Story,' but there is no informa- 
tion as to its date and authorship. The Mnhd- 
bharata has been translated into English prose at 
the expense of Pratapa Cliandra Kay (Calcutta, 
1895), and by M. N. Dutt (do. 1895). 

15. The Ramayaoa. — The .^«»iffy"Ha, the second 
of the great epics, is in the main the work of a 
single author, Valmiki. Though all parts are not 
from the same hand, and though it is not entirely 
free from digressions, it tells a connected story of 
great interest in epic diction of the highest order. 
It is to this day the favourite ]ioem of the Hindus. 
The central figures are Rama and his devoted wife 
Sita ; the main event the conquest of Laiika (pro- 
bably Ceylon). 

DaSaratha, the mij-hty king of Ondh (.\yodhya), having 
grown old, decides upon Rama, hi^ oldest i^on, as his successor, 
but his intriguing second queen, Kaikeji, succeeds in changing 
his inind in favour of her son Bliarata. llama, banished for 
fourteen years, retires with Sita to Ihe forest. I'pon the death 
of Da^ratha, his son Bharata refuses to usurp Rama's throne, 
but seeks him out in the forest in order to conduct him back to 
the throne in his capital city. Rama in t^irn refuses to cross 
his father's decision : he olTers his irold-emhroidered shoes as a 
token of his resignation of the throne. But Bharata, on return- 
ing, places the shoes upon the throne, and holds over them the 
yellow parasol, the sign of royalty ; he himself stands by and 
acts as tlie king's plenipotentiary. In the meantime Rama 
makes it his business to fight the demons who molest the 
Ascetics of the forest in their holy practices. Ravana, the king 
of the (lemons, who lives in l,anka. revengefully kidnaps Sita. 
Then Riiiua forms an alliance with Hanuman and Sugriva, the 
kings of tlie monkej-s, who build for him a wonderful bridge 
across from the mainland to Lanka. K.aina slays Ravana, is 
reunited v.-ith Sita, returns home, and, conjointly with Bharata, 
rules his happy people, so that the golden age has come again 
upon the earth. 

The story, notwithstanding the fact that it pre- 
sents itself outwardly as a heroic legend, lies 
under the suspicion of containing one or more 
mythic roots. Certainly in the Veda Sita is the 
personified furrow of tlie field, tlie beautiful wife 
of Indra or I'arjanya (see Vedic Religion). 
Hence Rama certainly continues the qualities t>f 
Indra, the slayer of demons. The story also seems 
to typify the advance of Brahnianical civilization 
soutliward towards Ceylon. 

The RCimdyana consists of seven books, in about 24,000 
stanzas. It exists in three recensions, which differ one from the 
other in their readings, the order of the stanisas, and in having 
each more or less lengthy im-^sages that are wanting in the 
others. The best known and most popular recension has been 
translated by the Anglo-Indian scholar R. T. if. Gritlith in five 
volumes (lieiiares, 1870-7:'.). 

16. The Puranas.- Siiinewhat related in char- 
acter to tlie great epics are tlie PiirOnas, eighteen 
in number. They arc later poetic works of mixed 
cosmugonic, epic, and didactic character. The 



LITERATURE (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit) 



111 



■iyo]:Apurana occurs fiequeutly iu the mose texts 
of the Veda as a designation of the Veda's own 
cosmogonic and legendary lore ; the name is also 
applied to the MahCtbhdratn. In its most distinc- 
tive sense the word refers to a class of writings 
which certainly do not date before the litli cent. 
A.D. The existing P?<rana.s seem to be sectarian 
religious manuals for the people, written in the 
interest of eitlier the worsliippers of Visnu or those 
of Siva. Though the fundaqiental later Hindu 
triad— Brahma, Visnu, and Siva — is recognized, 
nevertlieless the Vai^navite Kurma Purdna does 
not hejiitate to say : ' Visnu is the divinity of tlie 
gods, Siva of the de^'ils'.'' To Brahma all alike 
refer only in a perfunctory fashion. According to 
ancient tradition, the ideal Parana is divided into 
five parts ; (1) primary creation, or eosmogony ; (2) 
secondary creation, or the destruction and rebuild- 
ing of the worlds ; (3) genealogy of the gods and 
patriarchs ; (4) mammntaras, or periods of reigns 
of the Manu ; (o) the history of the dynasties of 
kings. Though no extant Purdna is so divided, yet 
their subject-matter roughly follows that order. 
Tlie entire type of composition is of secondary im- 
portance ; it boiTows its tliemes very largely from 
the epic literature, and represents religious belief, 
practices, and legends in an exaggerated, fantastic, 
often disordered fashion (see PURANAS). 

17. The 'artistic epics.' — The Hindus consider 
six kdvyas, or ' artistic epics,' entitled to the 
epithet 'great' (mahd-lcdvya). But their artistic, 
or, better, artificial, character removes them in 
reality from the sphere of genuine epic ; they are 
interesting on account of tlieir wealth of descrip- 
tive power and delicacy of illustration ; they are 
deficient in the portrayal of strong character or 
stirring action. Moreover, they are commingled 
more and more with lyric, erotic, and didactic 
elements, as well as with bombast and play on 
words. Nevertheless, no less a jicrson than Kali- 
dasa, the universal poet and dramatist, is the 
author of the two best known artistic epics, the 
Kumdrasambhava, or ' Birth of the War God,' and 
the Eaghuvamia, or ' Kace of Roi'hu.' The former 
consists of seventeen cantos, tlie first seven of 
wldch are devoted to the courtship and wedding of 
the deities Siva and Par\ati, tlie parents of the 
youthful god of war. The real theme of the poem 
appears only towards the end, in the account of the 
destruction of the demon Taraka, the object for 
which the god of war was born. The Enr/huvaiMa, 
in nineteen cantos, describes in the first nine the 
life of Rama, together with that of his dynasty. 
Then in the next six cantos comes the story of Rama 
himself, the same theme as that of the Rdmai/ana. 
The remaining cantos deal with the twenty-four 
kings who ruled as Rama's successors in Ayodhya. 
The remaining kd I'l/as deal for the most part with 
themes from tlie Mahiihhdrata and Rdm&yana. 

18. Lyric poetry. — Everj' form of artistic San- 
skrit literature, whether epic, dramatic, or con- 
fessedly lyric, has a strong lyric cast. At the 
bottom these three kinds, in the Hindu poet's 
hands, are but thematically difi'erentiated forms 
of the same poetic endowment. Ornate figures of 
speech, luxuriant richness of colouring, carried 
into literary composition from the gorgeous climate, 
flora, and fauna of India, subtle detail-painting 
of every sensation and emotion— these are the 
common characteristics of Hindu artistic poetry. 
Lyric poetry can hardly do more than emphasize 
or specialize these conditions, j'et it has its indi- 
vidual traits, the most important of which is the 
refined elaboration of the single strophe, in distuio- 
tion from continuous composition. In form and 
name these strophes are infinitely elaborated and 
varied. In no other literature have poets endea- 
voured so strongly to harmonize the sentiment of 



a stanza with its metrical expression. The most 
elaborate continuous IjtIcs of India are the Mcgha- 
data, or 'Cloud Messenger,' and the Etusam/idra, 
or ' Cycle of Seasons,' both by Kalidasa. 

The theme of the former is a message sent by a yaJtid. or 
elf, exiled from heaven. The messenger is a passing cloud 
which shall report to the |/ai-.«a'6 wife. as>he tosses lovelorn upon 
lier couch through the watches of the night, the longing of her 
exiled husband. Alay the cloud, after dehvering his message 
return with reassuring news, and never himself be separated 
from his lightning spouse. The ' Cycle of Seasons ' is famous 
for its descriptions of India's tropical nature, matched all along 
with the corresponding human moods and emotions. 

The bulk of lyrical poetry, however, is in single 
miniature stanzas, which suggest strongly the 
didactic sententious proverb poetiy which the 
Hindus also cultivated with great success. In 
fact the must famous collection of such stanzas, 
that of Bhnrtrhari, consists of lyric, didactic, 
and philo.sophic poems. Bliartrhari, who lived in 
the 7th cent. A.D,, is perhaps the mcst remarkable 
Hindu poet next to Kalidasa. 

His stanzas, 300 in number, are divided into three centuries— 
the 'Century of Love,' the 'Century of Wisdom,' and the 'Cen- 
turj- of Resignation.' There is no action in these stanzas 
Ever and again, within the narrow frame of a single stauza, the 
l)net pictures the world of him for whom the wide universe is 
summed up in woman, from whose glowing eyes there is no 
escape. But, after singing woman's praise in every key, he 
finally declares tliat he has become an altered man. Youtii has 
gone by ; his thoughts, freed from infatuation, are all for con- 
templation in the forest, and the whole world he accounts but 
<as a wisp of straw. 

The second master of the erotic stanza is Amani, 
author of the Ainarusataka, or 'Century of 
Amaru.' He also is a master at depicting all the 
moods of love : bliss and dejection, anger and 
devotion. None of the Indian lyrists treats love 
from the romantic or ideal point of view ; it is 
always sensuous love. But a certain delicacy of 
feeling and expression, as well as a sensitive 
appreciation of those qualities of love which 
attract irresistibly, only finally to repel, lifts their 
stanzas above the coarse or commonplace. It is 
Hindu 'minne-song,' flavoured with the universal, 
though rather theoretical, Hindu pessimism. 

19. Didactic poetry. — Even in erotic lyrics the 
Hindu's deep-seated inclination towards specu- 
lation and reflexion is evident. This has not 
only been the basis of that which is best and 
highest in their religion and philosophy, but it has 
assumed shape in another important product of 
their literature, the gnomic, didactic, sententious 
stanza, which may be called the ' Proverb.' O. von 
Bbhtlingk (Ind. Sin-iiche, Petrograd, 1870-73) col- 
lected from all Sanskrit literature some 8000 of 
these stanzas. They begin with the Mahdbhdrata, 
and are particularly common in the moral envoys 
of the fable literature. Their keynote is again the 
vanity of human life, and the superlative happiness 
that awaits resignation. The mental calm of the 
saintly anchorite who lives free from all desires in 
the stillness of the forest is the resolving chord 
of human unrest. But for him who remains in the 
world there is also a kind of salvation, namely, 
virtue. When a man dies and leaves all behind 
him, his good works alone accompany him on his 
journey into the next life (metempsychosis). 
Hence the practical value of virtue almost over- 
rides the pessimistic view of the vanity of all 
liuman action. These gnomic .stanzas are gathered 
up into collections such as the Sdnti-^ataka, or 
' Centurj' of Tranquillitj', ' or the 3Ioha-nuidgara, 
or 'Hammer of Folly'; but the ethical saw is 
really at home in the fables of the Panchafantra 
and Hitopadeia. These works are paralleled by 
liiiddhist compositions (see belo'w). In fact, a 
Buddhist collection of this sort, the Dhamma- 
pada, or ' Way of the Law,' contains perhaps the 
most beautiful and profound words of wisdom in 
all Hindu literature. 

20. The drama. — The drama is one of the latest 



112 



LITERATURE (Vedic and Classical Sanskrit) 



yet one of the most interesting products of San- 
skrit literature. With all the uncertainty of liter- 
ary dates in India there is no good reason to 
assume lor this class of works a date earlier than 
the 5tli or 6th cent, of our era. Certain Vedic 
hymns in dialogue are all that the e.'uly [leriods of 
Hindu literature sug^'est as a possible partial, yet 
very doulitful, basis tor the drama. The Sanskrit 
word for 'drama' is ndlakti, from the root nnt, 
nait, ' to dance ' (whence ' nautch girls,' etc.). The 
word tlierefore means litei-ally 'ballet.' It is not 
doubtful tliat dances coutril>uted sonietliing to the 
develoi)ment of the drama. In various religious 
ceremonies of earlier times dajicing |)lave(l a part ; 
at a later tin,ie the cult of Siva and Visnu, and 
especially of Siva's incarnation Krsna, was accom- 
panied by pantomimic dances. These pantomimes 
reproduced the heroic deeds of these gods, and 
were accompanied by songs. Popular representa- 
tions of this sort, tlie po-called ydtrax, have sur- 
vived to the present day in Bengal. Tliey are 
not unlike the mystery-play of the Christian 
Middle Ages, and their modern continuation, the 
passion-play. The god Krsna and Kadha, his love, 
are the main diaracters, but there are also friends, 
rivals, and enemies of Radlia. The yatras, a mix- 
ture of music, dancing, song, and improvised dia- 
logue, while unquestionably in some way connected 
with the origin of the drama, are nevertheless 
separated by a very wide gap from the finished 
product of tlie ndt/ika as it appears in such works 
as the Sakuntald of Kalidasa, or tlie Mrchchha- 
katikd, ' Clay Cart,' of Sudraka. 

It is still a moot question whcllior Western 
(Greek) intluencc, particularly the New Attic 
Comedy of Menauder (as reflected in Plautus and 
Terence), has not in some measure contributed 
to the shaping of the Hindu drama. It is known 
tliat Greelc actors followed Alexander the threat 
through Asia, and that they celebrated his victories 
with dramatic performances. After the death of 
Alexander Greek kings continued to rule in North- 
western India. Brisk commerce was carried on 
between the west coast of India and Alexandri.n, 
the later centre of Greek literary and artistic life. 
Greek art and Greek astronomy certainly exercised 
strong influence upon Hindu art and science. The 
chief points of resemblance between the Hindu 
drama and the Greek comedy are as follows. The 
Hindu drama is divided into acts (from one to ten), 
separated by varying periods of time ; the acts 
proper are preceded by a prohjguc spoken by the 
stage manager (sutrndhdra). The stage was a 
simple rostrum, not shut oil' from tlie auditorium 
by a curtaui, but, on the contrary, the curtain was 
in the background of the stage ; it was called 
yavanikd A\vAt is, ' (ireek curtain ' (tonxi)). The 
characters of the Hindu drama resemble in some 
respects those of tlie Attic comedy. There are 
courtesans and parasites, braggarts and cun- 
ning servants. Especially the standard comic 
figure of tlie Hindu drama, the vl/hlmka, the 
unromantic friend of the hero, compaic's well viiih 
the go-between, the scrcii-i curreyis, of the Gra?co- 
Koman comedv. The vidilmka ia a hunch- 
backed, bald dwarf of halting gait, the clown 
of the iii(^ce. Tliougli a Brahman by birth, 
with maliciously humorous intent, he does not 
-jieak Sanskrit, but the popular dialect, Prakrit, 
like the women and tlie inferior ])er.sonagcs of 
the drama. He plays the unfeeling realist, intent 
U]H>n every form of bodily comfort, especially a 
good dinner, to the hero's sentiment.al liowcry 
romanticism. Although it is just possibli; that 
one or the other feature of the Hindu diama 
may be due to outside influence, the inner matter 
is certainly national and Indie The themes are, 
for the most part, those of the heroic legend in the 



epics, or they move in the sphere of actually ex- 
isting Hindu courts. The themes, at any rate, are 
not ailt'erent from those of other Hindu literature. 
They show no foreign admixtures. It must not be 
forgotten that certain general coincidences between 
the drama and the theatre of dill'erent peoples are 
due to common [isychological traits ; hence genuine 
historical connexion in such matters requires the 
most exacting proof. 

The chief dramatic writer is Kalidasa, the in- 
comparable Hindu poet, master at the same time 
of epic and lyric poetry (see above). Three dramas 
are ascribed to liim : the tiitkuntald, the Urvaii, 
and Bldlavikdguiinitrn, or ' Mfilavika and Agni- 
mitra.' From a time somewhat earlier than Kali- 
dasa comes the drama Mrclu-hhakatikd, tl^e ' Clay 
Cart,' said to have been composed by king Sudraka, 
who is praised '^ostatically as its author in the 
prologue .of the play. Similarly, during the 7th 
cent. A.D., a king named Harsa is said to have 
composed three existing dramas : t\\ellatndvidi, or 
' String of Pearls ' ; the Ndgdnanda, whose hero is 
a Buddhist, and whose prologue is in praise of 
Buddlia ; and the P riycularfucd. From the 8tli 
cent. A.D. date the dramas of Bhavabliuti, a South 
Indian poet, the most distinguished dramatist next 
to Kalidasa and Sudraka. His most celebrated 
compositions are the Mdlatlmddhava, or ' Miilat; 
and Madhava'; and the two dramas Mitlidv'tra- 
charita and Uttarardmacha rita, both of which deal 
with Rama, the hero of the Hdmdyana. Finally 
may be mentioned Visakhadatta, the author of the 
Mudrdrdkm.m, the ' Seal of the Minister Raksasa,' 
a drama of political intrigue, whose composition 
also dates from the 8th century. 

' Action is the body of the drama' — such is the 
dictum of the Hindu theorists. Precisely what 
we should call dramatic action is not the promi- 
nent quality of the greatest dramatist of them all, 
Kalidasa. His dramas are rather distinguished by 
tenderness of feeling and delicacy of touch. They 
are Ij'ric rather than dramatic. The action is 
slow, the passions profound but not elemental. 
The deepest feelings are portrayed in delicate 
forms which never approach violence or coarse- 
ness, but, on the contrary, are over-nice. At the 
height of the situation, jierhaps in jirofound misery, 
the hero and the heroine still find time to institute 
comparisons between their own feelings and the 
phenomena of nature. There is indeed a plethora 
in them all of mango-trees and Hr't-sa - blossoms, 
of creepers and lotus, of iimiu-lips, of gazelles, 
flamingoes, and multi-coloured parrots. But we 
must bear in mind the climate of India, and its 
almost frenzied flora and fauna ; then this excess 
will .seem less extravagant. Kalidasa's dramas 
are always artistic and finished, and their beauty 
strongly suggests the genius of Goethe. The 
single Hindu drama which calls to mind a real 
modern drama is the 'Clav Cart,' ascribed to king 
Sudraka, whose persons, diction, and action, more 
than those of anj' otln-r Hindu play, remind one 
of Shakespeare (see Dram.\ [Indian]). 

21. Fables and stories. — No department of 
Hindu liter.iture is more interesting to the student 
of comparative literature than that of the fables 
and fairy tales. There is scarcely a single motive 
of the European fable collections that does 
not appear in the Hindu collections. The study 
of the migrations and relations of fables and 
fairy tales was first elev.ated to the position of a 
science by Tlieodor Benfey in his work cm the 
PaHchatiinliii (Leipzig. 185t)). On the other hand, 
the proverbs and instructions which are woven 
into the fables inesent the best ami most practical 
picture of Hindu ethics. The most important and 
extensive ccilloction of fables and talcs is Bud- 
dhiRti<', being written in Pali. This collection is 



LITHUANIANS AND LETTS 



113 



designated as the JCdakas, which seems to mean 
' Bii-th Stories.' Buddha is made to appear in 
every one of them as the wise or successful person 
or animal of_ the fable ; he himself points the 
moral (see Jataka). The two most important 
Sanskrit collections are the Panckatantra and tlie 
Hitopadeia. The Panckatantra, or 'Five Books,' 
the most celebrated Sanskrit book of this sort, 
existed at least as early as the first half of the 
6th cent. A. D. , since it was translated by order of 
king Khusru Anushirvan (531-579) into Pahlavi, 
the literary Persian language of that time. It 
thence passed into Arabic, Greek, Persian, Turk- 
ish, Syriac, Hebrew, Latin, and German ; and from 
German into other European languages. The name 
' Panchatantra ' is probably not original, but took 
the place of ' Karataka and Damanaka,' or|some 
similar title, derived from the names of the two 
jackals prominent in the first book. This may be 
surmised, because the title of the Syriac version is 
' Kalilag and Damnag,' of the Arabic version 
' Kalilah and Dinmah.' Both the Panchatantra 
and the Hitopadeia, or ' Salutary Instruction,' were 
originally intended as manuals for the instruction 
of kings in domestic and foreign policy. The 
Hitopadeia, said to have been composed by Nara- 
yana, states that it is an excerpt from the Pan- 
chatantra and ' other books. ' 

The most famous collection of fairy tales is the 
very extensive Kathdsaritsagara, or ' Ocean of 
Rivers of Stories,' composed by the Kashmirian 
poet Somadeva, about A. D. 1070. This is in verse ; 
three much shorter collections are in prose. The 
^ukasaptati, or 'Seventy Stories of the Parrot,' 
tells how a wife whose husband is away, and 
who is inclined to solace herself with other men, 
is for seventy nights cleverly entertained and 
deterred by the story - telling parrot, until her 
husband returns. , The Vetdla-paiichaviniAati, or 
' Twenty-five Tales of the Vampire,' is kno^m to 
English readers under the name of ' Vikram and 
the Vampire.' The fourth collection is the Simhd- 
sana-dvatrimMlta, or 'Thirty-two Stories of the 
Lion-seat ' (throne), in which the throne of king 
Viki'ama tells the stories. A noteworthy feature 
of the Sanskrit collections of fairy tales, as well 
as of the fables, is the insertion of a number of 
different stories within the frame of a single narra- 
tive. This style was borrowed by other Oriental 
peoples, the most familiar instance being the 
Arabian Nights. A few prose romances of more 
independent character may be mentioned in this 
connexion. The Daiakumara ■ charita, or ' Ad- 
ventures of the Ten Princes,' a story of common 
life and a very corrupt society, reminds one of the 
Simplicissimns of Grimmelshausen. Its author is 
Dandin, and it probably dates from the 6th cent. 
A.D. The Vasavadattd by Subandbu, and the 
Kadambari by Bana, are highly artificial romances ; 
the latter narrates, in stUted language and long 
compounds, the sentimental love-story of an in- 
effably noble prince and the equally ineflably 
beautiful and virtuous fairy princess Kadambari. 
These works are known as charita, 'narrative' ; the 
same name is also used for chronicles or quasi- 
historical literature of inferior gi'ade. The nearest 
approach to history, in our sense of the word, is 
the Bajataraiiginl, or the Chronicle of Kashmir, 
bj' Kaihana, from the middle of the 12th cent. A.D. 

22. Scientific literature. — India abounds in all 
forms of scientific literature, written in tolerably 
good Sanskrit, even to the present day. One of the 
characteristics of the Hindu mind is that it never 
drew the line between literary creation and scien- 
tific presentation, so that it is not easy to mark off 
from one another belles lettres and scientific litera- 
ture. The ancient legal books of the Veda (see 
above) continue in the more modern poetical 

VOL. VIII.— 8 



Dharmaidstras and Smrti.i. Of these the Law 
Books of Manu and Yajuavalkya (see above) are 
the most famous examples ; Manu specially enjoy.s 
great authority to this day. Rooted in the Upani- 
sads are the sutras, or rules, of the six systems 
of Hindu philosophy, and their abundant exposi- 
tions. Grammar, etymology, lexicography, pro- 
sody, rhetoric, music, and architecture all own a 
technical literature of wide scope and importance, 
and the treatment of most of these shows a surpris- 
ing tendency to assume metrical form. The earliest 
works of an etymological and phonetic character 
are the Vedic glosses of Yaska, the so-called 
Naighantukas and the Nirukta, and the Prdti- 
idkhyas, or phonetic treatises pertaining to the 
treatment of a Vedic text in a given school or 
iakhd (see above). Later, but far more important, 
is the Gramriuxr of Pauini, one of the greatest 
grammarians of all times, and his commentators 
Katyayana and Patanjali. Mathematics and as- 
tronomy were cultivated from very early times ; 
the so-called Arabic numerals came to the Arabe 
from India, and were designated by them as Hindu 
numerals. Indian medical science must have 
begun to develop before the beginning of the 
Christian era, for one of its chief authors, Charaka, 
was the head physician of king Kaniska in the 
1st cent. A.D. The germs of Hindu medical 
science reach back to the Atharvaveda. Tbe 
Bower Manuscript, one of the oldest of Sanskrit 
manuscripts (probably 5th cent. A.D.), contains 
passages which agree verbally with the works of 
Susruta and Charaka, the leading authorities on 
this subject. 

LiTERATOBB. — The mo3t convenient sketch for English readers 
is A. A. Macdonell's thorouglily competent H?s^or^ o/5a7i5fcnt 
Literature, one of the volumes of * Short Histories of the Litera- 
tures of tiie World,' edited by Edmund Gosse (liOndon, 1900). 
The bibUographical notes at the end of the book are a safe guide 
to more extensive study. Readable and popular in style is R. W. 
Frazer's Literary History of India (London, 189S). Max Miil- 
ler's History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature'^ (London, 1S60> 
deals only with the Vedic period, and was important in its day, 
but is now antiquated. A. Weber's History of Indian Litera- 
ture (from the German by T. Zachariae, London, 1S7S) is a learned 
and technical work, not at all adapted to the wants of the general 
reader ; it represents the state of knowledge of a quarter of a 
century ago. The German work of L. v. Schroder, Indiena 
Literatur und Cultur (Leipzig, 1887), contains a fuller, very 
instructive, and readable account of Hindu literature ; copious 
translations and digests of the texts themselves render this work 
very helpful. The more recent treatises are H. Oldenberg:, Die 
Literatur des alten Indiens (Stuttgart, 1903), and V. Henry, 
Les Litt^ratures de VInde (Paris, 1904), both excellent treatises, 
having in view more particularly EESthetic valuation of Hindu 
literature. Still more recently there have appeared three parts 
of M. Wintemitz's Geschichte der indischen Litteratur (Leip- 
zig, 1908 ff.), a most satisfactory and instructive book. The 
GIAP, commenced under the editorsliip of G. Biihler, and 
continued after his death by F. Kielhom and others (Strass- 
burg, 1896 ff.), covers the entire domain of Indo-Arj'an antiquity, 
and contains authoritative information concerning many points 
and problems of Sanskrit literature. 

Maurice Bloomfield. 
LITHUANIANS AND LETTS.— i. Ethno- 
graphy. — Tiie Lithuanians and the Letts belong 
to the Aryan family of peoples, and together with 
tlie Borussians or Old Prussians, who became ex- 
tinct in the 17th cent., form a distinct ethnological 
group. This group, now generally called the 
' Baltic,' had already ramified into its several 
divisions in its pre-historic period, and its unity 
is now seen only in certain common elements of 
popular tradition and in the sphere of language — 
as regards which, however, the Lithuanians ex- 
hibit a much more archaic type than the Letts. 
The original home of the Litiiu-Lettish or Baltic 
race was probably the basin of the lower Niemen, 
and, as that district is virtually coterminous with 
the Lithuania of to-day, while the Letts are found 
in Courland, the adjacent Prussian littoral, the 
southern half of Livonia, and Polish Livonia in 
the government of Vitebsk, it would appear that 
the Lettish branch had reached its present location 



114 



LITHUANIANS AND LETTS 



by mi^Tating to the orijrinally Finnish districts of 
Gourland and Livonia, and that, on the other 
liand, the Lithuanians remained fast upon their 
ancestral soil. 

Numerically, neither member of the group is of 
gre«t account, nor is it likely that either was ever 
important. The Lithuanians number some one 
and a half million, about 120,000 of them being 
in Prussia ; the Letts less rather than more — the 
estimates